THE  CHRONICLES 
OF  RHODA 

FLORENCE  TINSLEY  COX 


LIBRARY  OF 

FRANKMEREDIT 


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THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


HOT*  OP  GALIF.  LffiRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


THE  CHRONICLES  OF 
RHODA 


BY 

FLORENCE  TINSLEY  COX 

ILLUSTRATED  BY 

JESSIE  WILLCOX  SMITH 

"  O  the  radiant  light  that  girdled 
Field  and  forest,  land  and  tea, 
When  we  all  wtre  young  together, 
And  the  world  was  new  to  me." 


BOSTON 
SMALL,  MAYNARD  &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1909 

Small,  flBasnarO  &  Company 


(INCORPORATED) 


Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall 


THE  UNIVERSITY   PRESS,   CAMBRIDGE,   U.S.A. 


TO   THE    MEMORY 
OF 

MY  FATHER  AND  MY  MOTHER 


21262B9 


I  A  DETHRONED  QUEEN 1 

II  LILY-ANN 29 

III  THE  OLD  MAJOR 61 

IV  THE  FIRESIDE  GOD 93 

V  THE  HOTTENTOT 129 

VI  A  SOCIAL  EVENT 165 

VII  AUNTIE  MAY 197 

VIII  THE  GREEN  DOOR 229 

IX  THE  HIDDEN  TALENT 257 


•• 


I 
A   DETHRONED   QUEEN 


"  YOUR  name  is  Rhoda,"  grandmother 
said,  with  the  catechism  open  in  her 
hand.  "  Rhoda.  Rhoda.  It 's  quite 
easy  to  say." 

"  Ain't  I  the  little  pig  that  went  to 
market?  "  I  asked,  anxiously,  gazing  up 
from  her  lap  into  her  eyes,  over  which 
she  wore  glass  things  like  covers.  "  And 
ain't  I  Baby  Bunting? "  I  continued, 
with  the  memory  of  a  famous  hunt  steal- 
ing over  me. 

"  Once  you  were,"  grandmother  an- 
swered, soberly.  "Now  you  are  Rhoda." 

I  liked  to  sit  in  grandmother's  lap. 
She  had  such  a  soft  silk  lap,  and  in  her 
pocket-hole  there  was  a  box  which  held 
peppermint  drops.  She  never  gave  them 

[3] 


THE    CHRONICLES    or    RHODA 


to  anybody  but  just  me,  when  I  was 
good,  and  if  her  arms  were  thin  and 
fragile  under  the  soft  silk,  she  knew 
how  to  hold  a  little  girl  in  a  most  com- 
fortable fashion.  Her  white  hair  rippled 
down  low  at  the  sides,  concealing  her 
ears,  but  her  ears  were  there  for  I  had 
run  my  fingers  up  to  see.  She  wore  a 
lovely  lace  collar,  and  a  breastpin  with 
a  picture  on  it,  and  when  she  walked  the 
charms  on  her  watch-chain  clinked  in  a 
musical  way.  Grandmother  was  beauti- 
ful, and  every  one  said  that  I  looked 
just  like  grandmother.  That  was  very 
nice,  but  puzzling,  for  my  hair  was 
golden,  and  my  eyes  were  uncovered,  and 
where  grandmother  had  her  wrinkles  I 
had  only  a  soft  pink  cheek. 

I  never  s#t  very  long  on  grandmother's 
lap.  It  was  a  function  that  meant  cate- 
chism or  extreme  repentance,  and  then, 
also,  I  was  too  popular  for  one  person 
to  have  me  always.  The  family  handed 
[4] 


A    DETHRONED    QUEEN 


me  around  very  much  like  refreshments. 
Now  I  would  be  with  mother,  and  now 
with  father,  and  now  with  Auntie  May, 
who  did  not  live  at  our  house,  but  would 
run  in  on  her  way  to  school  to  pat  my 
head.  They  were  all  so  fond  of  me  that 
it  was  quite  gratifying. 

"  Where  is  Rhoda?  "  father  would  ask 
the  very  first  thing  when  he  came  into 
the  house  at  night,  and  I  would  sit  up 
for  him,  holding  on  tightly  to  my  chair 
for  fear  that  they  would  put  me  to  bed 
before  he  came. 

Then  we  would  have  a  little  talk  to- 
gether, up  in  a  corner  by  ourselves.  He 
was  my  confidant,  and  was  more  on  a 
level  with  me  than  other  people.  I  had 
an  idea  that  he  would  give  me  anything, 
quite  irrespective  of  goodness  or  bad- 
ness, for  when  I  was  naughty  he  never 
appeared  to  think  any  the  worse  of  me, 
although  the  rest  of  the  family  might 
be  bowed  down  with  the  sense  of  my 

[5] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


moral  shortcomings.  He  was  my  cham- 
pion, and  in  the  early  twilight  I  had 
many  stories  to  tell  him,  not  always  of 
the  strictest  veracity. 

"  And  so  I  runned  away,  far,  far 
away,  and  I  only  came  home  just  now," 
I  invented,  in  an  airy  manner. 

"  Did  you  see  any  one  on  the  road? " 
he  asked,  with  sudden  interest. 

He  was  aware  of  my  love  of  a  romance. 

"  There  was  a  little  old  woman  in  a 
red  cloak  with  a  red  pepper  in  her 
mouth,"  I  answered,  peeping  up  in  his 
face  with  wide,  truthful  eyes. 

"  Mother  Hubbard!  "  my  father  cried, 
clapping  his  hands  like  a  boy.  "  Mother 
Hubbard!  But  where  was  her  dog?" 

"  Her  dog  was  behind,  and  he  had  a 
red  pepper  in  his  mouth,"  I  added, 
hastily. 

"  I  wonder  what  they  were  going  to 
do  with  them,"  my  father  said,  luring 
me  on. 

[6] 


A    DETHRONED    QUEEN 


"Don't  you  know,  father?"  I  cried, 
delighted. 

"  No,  I  can't  think." 

"  Pies !  She  was  going  to  make  pies 
out  of  them!  Pretty  red  pepper  pies! " 

"  Sure  enough !  "  my  father  said,  much 
surprised.  "  I  never  thought  of  that. 
How  I  wish  that  I  'd  been  along!" 

The  little  old  lady  in  the  silk  dress 
used  to  quake  when  I  said  these  things. 
That  was  one  of  the  reasons  why  she 
was  teaching  me  my  catechism  at  such 
an  early  age,  and  I  could  repeat  some 
pretty  hymns,  too,  which  helped  to  com- 
fort her.  Always,  no  matter  how  ex- 
travagant the  tale  might  be,  she  made 
her  protest.  She  meant  that,  at  least, 
there  should  be  one  strong  hand  to  guide 
the  child  on  the  right  road. 

'  That  is  not  really  so,  Rhoda,"  she 
declared,  in  a  severe  voice.  "  You  did 
not  see  an  old  woman  with  a  red  pepper 
in  her  mouth." 

[7] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


I  looked  at  her  with  a  pout. 

"  Well,  I  did  see  an  old  woman  in  a 
red  cloak,  grandma." 

"  No,  you  did  n't  see  an  old  woman 
at  all.  Child,  you  have  not  been  out  of 
the  house  to-day!" 

"  I  saw  a  dog  with  a  red  pepper  in 
his  mouth,"  I  said,  meekly. 

"  No,  you  did  not  even  see  a  dog." 

"  Well,  I  saw  my  own  red  pepper  1 " 
I  cried,  breaking  into  sudden  tears,  for 
this  was  my  last  stronghold,  and  if  the 
pepper  was  taken  away  all  my  charm- 
ing fairy  tale  was  gone. 

"  It 's  not  a  question  of  truth  or  un- 
truth," my  father  said,  tossing  his  head 
back  as  if  he  were  displeased.  "  It  was 
merely  a  story  of  adventure.  Pray  did 
you  never  meet  any  heroic  beasts  your- 
self in  your  own  day? " 

I  opened  one  wet  eye,  and  stole  a 
cautious  glance  at  grandmother. 

"Never,  Robert,  never!" 
[8] 


A    DETHRONED    QUEEN 


I  began  to  cry  again  harder  than 
before. 

Then  my  father  took  me  in  his 
arms,  and  carried  me  upstairs  to  my 
mother. 

"  Grandmother  has  been  making  her 
tell  the  truth,"  he  said,  ruefully.  "  She 
has  n't  any  sympathy  with  Rhoda's 
imagination." 

So  even  in  those  early  days  I  found 
that  I  had  an  imagination,  just  as  I  had 
a  chair  with  long  legs,  and  a  blue  plate, 
and  a  silver  mug.  It  was  a  sleeping 
imagination  as  yet,  for  though  I  had  a 
beautiful  blue  plate  with  a  blue  bridge 
over  a  blue  and  white  stream,  I  never 
imagined  until  after  years  that  those 
tiny  figures  on  the  bridge  were  lovers 
running  away  from  a  cruel  parent. 
Then  the  bridge  was  the  spot  beyond 
which  the  gravy  must  not  flow.  When 
it  swept  over  the  boundary  which  I 
marked  for  it,  I  pounded  the  table  with 

[9] 


THE    CHRONICLES    or    RHODA 


impotent  rage,  and  would  eat  no  more 
dinner. 

"  If  she  were  a  child  of  mine,"  grand- 
mother said,  sternly,  "  she  should  eat 
her  dinner.  It  is  simply  preposterous 
that  her  temper  should  be  allowed  to  go 
unchecked.  What  will  she  be  when  she 
grows  up ! " 

"  I  don't  think  that  Rhoda  has  a  bad 
temper,"  my  mother  replied,  plaintively. 
"  It 's  only  that  she  's  the  soul  of  order." 

My  mother  always  discovered  an  ex- 
cuse that  fitted  my  case,  and  that  criti- 
cal grandparent  of  mine  found  the 
ground  swept  from  beneath  her  feet. 
I  was  the  soul  of  order.  She  had  seen 
me  herself  with  my  large  basketful  of 
toys  wending  wearily  about  the  house. 
It  was  a  large  basket,  a  beautiful  yel- 
low one  with  a  red  handle,  and  when 
I  began  to  play  my  things  came  out 
of  it,  and  when  I  was  through  playing 
they  went  into  the  yellow  basket  again. 
[10] 


A    DETHRONED    QUEEN 


I  had  a  rag  doll  of  a  pleasing  appear- 
ance, named  Arabella,  and  a  black 
woolly  creature,  which  to  the  eye  of  af- 
fection was  a  dog,  and  some  of  the  small 
bits  of  carved  wood  with  which  a  wooden 
Noah  intended  to  replenish  his  earth.  I 
played  the  most  delightful  games  with 
these  toys,  and  my  mother  played  with 
me  like  another  small  child. 

It  was  with  her  that  I  lived  most  of 
my  life.  We  were  together,  not  only 
during  the  day,  but  also  at  night,  for 
when  I  woke  up  hours  after  I  had  been 
put  in  my  crib,  she  was  always  sitting 
in  the  lamplight,  sewing  or  reading,  or 
else  quietly  watching  the  fire  on  the 
hearth.  There  was  a  cheerful  glitter 
from  the  brass  andirons  and  fender,  and 
on  a  shelf  above  a  silver  candle-stick 
with  crystal  pendants  threw  out  rosy 
lights.  I  did  not  know  any  of  these 
wonderful  things  by  name,  but  I  vaguely 
enjoyed  their  engaging  sparkle,  and 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


would  lie  feeling  very  safe  and  warm, 
with  my  eyes  on  the  central  figure  which 
came  and  went,  now  large  and  mother- 
like,  now  lost  in  the  misty  depths  of 
slumber. 

Strong  as  was  my  feeling  of  proprie- 
torship in  that  crib,  however,  there  came 
a  dreadful  night  when  I  awoke  to  find 
myself  lost.  I  was  in  a  new  bed.  I 
was  in  grandmother's  big  bed,  where 
there  was  a  faint  smell  of  lavender  which 
I  liked  without  knowing  why.  Grand- 
mother herself  had  me  in  her  arms  and 
was  soothing  me. 

"  Hush-a-by,  baby,"  she  said,  in  quite 
a  new  tone,  somewhat  like  a  grand- 
mother, but  more  like  an  angel.  "  Hush- 
a-by,  baby,  in  the  treetop." 

I  sat  up  and  looked  about  for  the 
shining  fender.  It  was  gone!  The  fire 
was  gone,  and  my  mother  was  gone! 

"  I  want  my  mother,"  I  said,  sternly. 

"  Rhoda  can't  have  mother  now. 
[12] 


A   DETHRONED    QUEEN 


Rhoda  must  stay  with  grandma,"  the 
dulcet  voice  went  on.  "  Grandma's  own 
little  Rhoda!" 

"  But  I  want  my  mother,"  I  cried,  all 
the  sternness  breaking  into  sobs. 

Grandmother  was  evidently  alarmed. 
She  rocked  me  softly,  she  gave  me  hur- 
ried sips  of  water,  and,  at  last,  she 
emptied  the  peppermint  drops,  not  one 
by  one  as  heretofore,  but,  lavishly,  in 
dozens,  into  my  hand.  I  felt  a  little 
more  comfortable.  The  fender  was  a 
pretty  thing  to  watch,  but  peppermint 
drops  were  peppermint  drops.  I  went 
to  sleep  in  my  grandmother's  arms  quite 
calmly,  wrhile  with  tender  touches  she 
dried  my  eyes  and  smoothed  my  hair. 

"  Bless  the  child!  "  I  heard  her  say,  in 
the  pause  between  dreams. 

It  was  rather  a   shock,   perhaps,  to 

wake  up  in  that  big  bed  next  morning 

and  be  dressed  by  grandmother.     She 

was  very  awkward  at  it,  as  if  she  had 

[13] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


forgotten  how  small  garments  were  con- 
structed, and  how  hard  it  was  for  arms 
to  go  into  sleeves.  I  was  preternatu- 
rally  good,  but  even  when  I  slipped  my 
hand  into  hers  to  go  downstairs  I  was 
meaning  to  desert  her  when  mother  came 
into  sight. 

We  went  down  to  breakfast,  very 
clean  and  neat,  with  short,  sober  steps 
that  suited  both  our  gaits.  Father  came 
hurrying  to  meet  us  and  was  quite  over- 
joyed to  see  me;  but,  although  I  searched 
in  all  the  closets  and  behind  the  doors, 
there  was  no  mother  in  any  of  the 
rooms.  When  no  one  was  looking  at 
me  I  started  upstairs  to  hunt  for  her. 
Grandmother  called  me  back  in  that  old 
tone  which  must  be  obeyed,  which  had 
the  ring  of  authority  and  catechism  in  it. 

"  Stay  here,  Rhoda,"  she  said,  deci- 
sively. "  You  are  not  to  go  out  of  this 
room." 

Then  with  cautious  steps  she  mounted 
[14] 


A    DETHRONED    QUEEN 


up  herself,  passing  into  the  forbidden 
regions,  and  father  and  I  were  all  that 
were  left  of  the  circle  about  the  table, 
which  was  usually  so  gay  with  talk  and 
merriment.  To  my  eyes  father  had  a 
look  as  if  he,  too,  were  frightened. 

"  Never  mind,  father,"  I  said,  eagerly. 
"  Rhoda  won't  run  away." 

He  took  me  up  with  rather  an  apolo- 
getic laugh. 

"  Little  daughter,"  he  said,  in  a  tender 
way,  "  did  I  ever  tell  you  about  the  big 
bird?" 

"  No,  father,"  I  answered,  quickly. 

"  Not  about  the  time  when  it  brought 
me  Rhoda?" 

I  stared  at  him  with  delighted  eyes. 
Evidently  I  was  going  to  hear  some- 
thing of  great  importance,  something 
which  concerned  me  alone. 

'  Three  years  ago,"  my  father  began, 
in  an  easy  fashion,  "  I  thought  I  'd  like 
a  little  daughter.  So  I  sent  a  letter  to 
[15] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


a  beautiful  big  bird  which  lives  far  away 
where  the  blue  sky  comes  down  to  the 
ground.  The  bird  has  lots  of  little 
babies  —  girl  babies  and  boy  babies  — 
on  the  shore  of  a  lake  where  the  sun 
shines  day  and  night.  She 's  a  very 
good-natured  bird,  and  sometimes  when 
she  hears  of  a  father  who  's  lonely  be- 
cause he  has  n't  any  children,  she  '11  put 
a  little  baby  under  her  wing,  and  fly 
on  over  the  beautiful  country  until  she 
comes  to  its  father's  house.  Now  the 
bird  knew  that  I  was  very  lonely,  be- 
cause I  had  sent  her  a  letter,  so  one 
day  she  picked  up  little  Rhoda  out  of 
a  lily  leaf,  and  came  flying  along  —  fly- 
ing along  —  " 

"  I  remember!  I  remember!  "  I  cried, 
clapping  my  hands.  "  She  put  me  under 
her  wing,  and  the  feathers  did  tickle 
so!" 

My  father  stopped  to  laugh;    but  in 
a  moment  he  continued  his  narrative. 
[16] 


A    DETHRONED    QUEEN 


"  She  came  flying  along  straight  into 
the  garden  where  I  was  walking  about. 
She  put  you  down  —  " 

"  And  you  said,  '  Is  this  my  little 
Rhoda?'  and  I  said,  'Yes,  father!'" 

"  Just  so." 

"  Now  tell  it  all  over  again,  father," 
I  demanded  in  delight. 

My  father  laughed  and  hugged  me 
closer.  He  still  had  that  apologetic  look 
on  his  face,  and  if  I  had  been  a  little 
older  and  a  little  wiser,  I  would  have 
known  that  my  father  was  trying  very 
hard  to  break  something  to  me. 

"  She  has  a  great  many  babies,"  he 
said  at  last,  in  an  uneasy  tone.  "  More 
than  she  knows  what  to  do  with.  Yes- 
terday I  wrote  her  to  send  me  another 
Rhoda." 

I  drew  away  from  him,  dumbfounded. 

"  Another  Rhoda !  "  I  exclaimed,  with 
a  gasp,  frowning  at  him. 

"  Would  n't  you  like  a  little  sister 
4  [IT] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


to  play  with? "  he  inquired,  tenderly. 
"  To  sleep  with  you  in  your  crib?  And 
sit  by  you  at  the  table?  " 

"  No,  father." 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,  you  would,  Rhoda !  " 

"No,  no,  no!"  I  screamed,  breaking 
into  angry  tears. 

He  tried  to  comfort  me  in  a  blunder- 
ing, laughing  manner,  but  in  the  midst 
of  all  my  sorrow  grandmother's  voice 
called  to  him  from  above. 

"Robert!" 

When  the  room  cleared  before  my 
eyes  I  saw  that  I  was  alone. 

At  that  same  moment  I  had  decided 
on  my  course  of  action.  Very  quickly, 
very  quietly,  I  collected  my  plate  and 
mug,  my  woolly  dog  and  pleasant  faced 
doll,  and  the  yellow  basket  with  the  red 
handle,  and  stowed  them  all  away  in  a 
dark  corner  under  the  sofa,  where  they 
were  hidden  from  sight.  My  blue  hood 
which  hung  in  the  hall,  and  was  some- 
[18] 


A    DETHRONED    QUEEN 


thing  quite  new  and  precious,  I  put  on 
my  head,  where  it  would  be  safest. 
Then  half  terrified,  half  defiant,  I  took 
up  my  position  at  the  window  to  watch 
for  the  arrival  of  that  other  self  which 
would  dispute  my  realm.  Every  second 
I  dreaded  to  hear  the  flutter  of  wings 
as  the  bird  passed  over  the  house,  and 
to  see  another  Rhoda  standing  expect- 
ant in  the  garden,  to  see  my  father, 
perhaps,  hurrying  to  meet  her  with 
outstretched  arms.  It  was  a  terrible 
hour. 

In  my  need,  however,  I  found  a  new 
friend,  Norah  from  out  the  kitchen.  I 
had  known  her  before,  as  a  person  own- 
ing unlimited  cake,  and  apt  to  display 
a  strong  liking  for  myself,  but  then  she 
had  been  only  an  outsider,  while  now 
she  was  almost  nearer  to  me  than  my 
mother.  I  threw  myself  straight  into 
her  willing  arms,  and  told  my  story. 

Norah  was  evidently  astonished,  and 
[19] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


almost  incredulous.  She  did  not  believe 
that  there  could  be  another  Rhoda.  She 
had  never  heard  of  any  bird,  but  when  I 
persisted  she  shared  my  views,  and  en- 
tered into  my  position  with  great  par- 
tisanship. 

"  But,  sure,  I  'd  not  worrit  my  mind," 
Norah  said,  consolingly.  "  No  burrd  in 
her  sinses  would  take  a  baby  out  in  such 
weather  as  this." 

To  be  sure  it  was  raining.  I  had  not 
thought  of  that  before.  A  fierce  storm 
was  beating  against  the  house,  and  pools 
of  water  stood  under  the  trees.  The  rain- 
drops on  the  window  pane  ran  down  in 
small  rivulets,  and  splashed  against  the 
sill  just  as  my  tears  had  done  before. 

"  She  '11  get  her  feathers  all  wet,"  I 
cried,  triumphantly. 

"  And  she  '11  not  dry  them  at  my 
kitchen  fire! "  Norah  declared,  with  stu- 
pendous daring. 

We  were  out  in  the  kitchen  now.  It 
[20] 


A    DETHRONED    QUEEN 


was  a  very  pleasant  homely  place.  A 
kettle  sang  on  the  stove,  and  a  cat  purred 
on  the  hearth,  and  the  carpet  had  beau- 
tiful red  stripes  that  seemed  too  pretty 
to  walk  on.  Norah  was  very  good  to 
me.  She  had  my  high-chair  ranged  at 
the  side  of  the  hearth,  and  the  cat,  under 
compulsion,  sat  on  my  lap,  and  they  all 
sang,  —  the  kettle,  the  cat,  and  Norah, 
in  their  several  fashions,  as  if  they  were 
happy.  They  acted  very  much  as  if 
they  were  entertaining  royalty. 

If  it  had  not  been  for  my  sorrow  I 
should  have  enjoyed  myself,  but  the 
thought  of  that  bird  would  pass  across 
my  mind.  She  had  come  once  when  she 
wras  sent  for,  bearing  me  from  my  lily 
leaf  to  my  own  home.  The  rain  might 
fall,  and  the  day  might  be  very  dark, 
but  who  was  to  know  if  that  conscien- 
tious bird  would  not  still  fulfill  her  mis- 
sion? Why,  there  were  five  children  in 
the  next  house,  and  the  bird  must  have 
[21] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


brought  them  all!  When  the  bell  rang, 
as  it  rang  many  times  in  the  course  of 
the  day,  I  would  creep  to  the  kitchen 
door  to  listen,  and  feel  greatly  relieved 
when  I  found  that  it  was  only  men  and 
women  who  wanted  to  come  in. 

"  It  was  no  burrd,"  Norah  would  say, 
reporting  on  each  occasion. 

"Did  you  lock  the  door?"  I  asked, 
anxiously. 

"  I  did  that.  There  's  no  burrd  shall 
make  her  way  into  this  house  to-day," 
she  answered,  with  a  great  show  of 
determination. 

Even  as  she  spoke  there  came  a  faint 
strange  sound  from  upstairs,  a  wailing 
cry,  as  though  something  very  weak  was 
angry  and  frightened,  and  wanted  mat- 
ters arranged  to  suit  its  own  will  and 
convenience.  For  one  moment  I  thought 
Norah  heard  the  sound,  too.  She  seemed 
to  smile;  but  on  the  instant  she  broke 
into  a  queer,  elfish  song,  and  began  to 
[22] 


A    DETHRONED    QUEEN 


dance  before  the  fire  in  an  irresistible 
way  that  brought  me  capering  beside 
her  in  a  burst  of  glee.  The  bird  had 
passed  out  of  my  mind,  and  I  was 
Rhoda  again,  the  little  queen  of  the 
household,  to  whom  all  deferred,  even 
grandmother  in  her  tenderer  moments. 

It  was  very  late  that  afternoon  when 
I  heard  my  father  calling  to  me  in  an 
eager,  excited  manner.  He  came  out 
into  the  kitchen  where  I  and  the  cat 
were  both  in  Norah's  lap,  indistinguish- 
able in  the  growing  darkness. 

"  Where  is  Rhoda  ? "  he  cried.  "  Where 
is  my  little  daughter?  I  've  got  some- 
thing to  show  her." 

I  went  to  him  quickly.  It  was  nice 
to  have  him  back  again,  and  to  be  kissed 
in  the  old  fond  way.  He  threw  me  upon 
his  shoulder  and  started  off;  but  even 
as  we  stepped  into  the  hall  he  called 
back  to  Norah,  still  with  that  boyish 
eagerness  in  his  voice. 
[23] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


"  You  can  come,  too,  Norah,"  he  said, 
generously.  "  I  want  you  to  see  what 
we  Ve  got  upstairs." 

Norah  joined  us  without  comment, 
and  followed  behind  through  the  hall 
and  upstairs  into  mother's  room.  There 
it  was  very  dark,  for  the  curtains  were 
drawn,  and  the  only  light  came  from  the 
fire  on  the  hearth,  in  front  of  which 
grandmother  was  sitting.  She  sat  in  a 
new  majestic  style,  and  on  her  lap  there 
was  something  bundled  up  which  she 
patted  from  time  to  time,  and  she 
trotted  her  feet  in  a  funny  seasaw 
fashion.  When  she  saw  us  come  in  she 
smiled,  and  then  very  slowly  she  folded 
down  a  covering,  and  showed  us  a  pil- 
low, and  on  the  pillow  there  were  two 
little  babies'  heads. 

"  Twins !  "  Norah  cried,  and  threw  up 
her  arms  in  the  air.  "  Now  the  saints 
be  good  to  us,"  she  said,  piously. 

"S-s-sh—  Not  so  loud,  Norah," 
[24] 


A    DETHRONED    QUEEN 


grandmother  whispered,  in  rebuke,  and 
trotted  her  feet  a  little  harder. 

"  Let  Rhoda  see,"  father  exclaimed. 
"  Let  Rhoda  come  quite  close." 

I  went  up  closer  by  grandmother's 
knee  and  looked  at  them.  It  was  a 
new  experience,  and  for  a  moment  I  felt 
sorry  for  myself.  Those  about  me  must 
have  shared  the  feeling,  for  their  eyes 
grew  kinder,  and  father  patted  my  back, 
and  Norah  muttered  under  her  breath. 

"  Sure  it 's  a  come  down  in  the  world," 
I  heard  her  say,  pityingly. 

Then,  suddenly,  those  two  little  crea- 
tures half  opened  their  eyes,  and  gazed 
at  me.  They  smiled  at  me !  They  knew 
that  I  was  their  big  sister!  Oh,  the 
wonder  of  the  two  little  heads  on  the 
pillow,  the  mystery  of  the  eyes  that 
looked  at  me  so  placidly,  with  that  smile 
of  kinship  in  their  depths!  I  forgot 
the  bird,  I  forgot  my  jealousy.  I  was 
ready  to  give  them  anything,  anything, 
[25] 


THE    CHRONICLES    or    RHODA 


even  the  woolly  dog  and  the  yellow 
basket  with  the  red  handle,  for  the 
simple  honor  of  their  acquaintanceship. 
They  were  so  young,  and  they  were  so 
weak!  They  could  not  walk,  and  they 
could  not  talk.  They  had  everything  to 
learn.  I  felt  very  old  beside  them,  al- 
though I  did  not  know  that  in  that  first 
moment  when  grandmother  turned  the 
covering  down  I  had  become  the  eldest 
child. 

"  Oh,  grandma,"  I  cried,  radiantly, 
"  you  may  have  one,  but  the  other  one 
shall  belong  all  to  me ! " 

There  was  a  movement  in  the  bed, 
and  some  one  called  to  me.  I  ran  into 
the  darkness  and  found  my  mother. 
There  on  the  pillow  beside  her  pretty 
dark  hair  she  made  a  place  for  me,  where 
we  could  see  each  other's  eyes.  Her  arm 
was  about  me  in  a  protecting  way,  as 
if  she  knew  how  hard  the  world  had 
become  for  me. 

[26] 


A    DETHRONED    QUEEN 


"  Rhoda,"  she  said,  with  that  smile 
which  always  seemed  so  wise,  "  mother's 
heart  is  a  big,  big  place!  There  is  room 
in  it  both  for  dear  little  Rhoda  and  the 
dear  little  babies." 

I  felt  that  I  was  content. 


[27] 


II 

LILY-ANN 


II 
LILY-ANN 


"  THIS  is  Lily- Ann,  Rhoda,"  my  mother 
said,  in  an  introductory  tone.  "  She  is 
to  be  your  little  nurse,  and  play  with 
you.  Do  you  know  many  nice  games, 
Lily- Ann? " 

From  the  shelter  of  my  mother's  chair 
I  stared  at  the  new-comer.  I  almost 
thought  at  first  that  it  might  be  a  little 
girl,  until  I  noticed  the  shining  folds 
of  white  apron.  Lily- Ann  was  all  white 
apron,  down  to  the  tops  of  her  large, 
patched  shoes.  She  was  fourteen  years 
old,  perhaps,  with  the  dignity  of  forty. 
She  had  a  wide,  smiling  face,  and  ap- 
peared to  be  very  agreeable  in  manner, 
so  when  she  put  out  her  hand  I  slipped 
mine  cordially  into  it. 
[31] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


"  I  can  play  at  wild  beasts,  and  puss-in- 
the-corner,  and  '  ride  a  cock  horse  to  Ban- 
bury  Cross,' "  she  told  my  mother  over  my 
head.  "  I  am  experienced.  I  have  helped 
to  raise  three  children,  ma'am." 

She  looked  so  small  as  she  ended  in 
this  impressive  fashion  that  my  mother 
laughed,  and  my  grandmother  gleamed 
responsively  through  her  glasses. 

"  It  must  be  only  quiet  games,  mind," 
my  mother  said.  "  You  must  n't  teach 
Miss  Rhoda  to  be  noisy." 

Lily-Ann  promised  to  observe  this 
caution  faithfully,  and  I  suppose  she 
thought  that  they  were  only  quiet  games 
which  we  played  that  morning.  We 
had  all  three,  —  Banbury  Cross,  then 
puss-in-the-corner,  and,  finally,  wild 
beasts.  Lily-Ann  crawled  under  the 
bed  and  roared  at  me,  now  like  a  tiger, 
now  plaintively,  like  a  big  pussy  cat, 
and  again  with  a  deeper  note  that  car- 
ried menace  in  its  tone. 
[32] 


LILY-ANN 


"  That 's  a  lion,"  she  explained,  in  be- 
tween great  volumes  of  sound.  "  Lions 
eat  people  all  up.  So  do  wolves.  Now 
I  'm  a  wolf.  Hear  me  crunch  their 
bones!  " 

There  was  a  horrible  snarl  under  the 
bed,  and  something  white  and  shining 
made  a  snatch  at  my  foot,  and  then 
retreated,  to  return  the  next  moment  in 
a  panting  rush,  much  too  real  to  be 
pleasant. 

"  Oh,  please,  Lily- Ann,  I  don't  want 
to  play  wild  beasts  any  more!"  I  ex- 
claimed, half  afraid;  but  only  half 
afraid,  for  she  was  very  obedient  to  my 
whims,  and,  when  I  cried  loud  enough, 
came  out  in  a  crushed  state  to  be  a 
little  girl  again. 

At  first  I  liked  Lily- Ann.  She  was 
so  companionable,  and  then  she  knew 
such  quantities  of  strange  things.  For 
instance,  it  was  she  who  showed  me  how 
to  make  my  hair  curl.  It  could  be  done 
a  [33] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


by  eating  crusts !  There  had  always  been 
a  great  deal  of  trouble  about  my  crusts. 
I  would  never  eat  them,  not  even  after 
I  had  been  reminded  of  all  the  poor  chil- 
dren in  the  world  who  had  not  a  crust 
apiece  to  stay  their  hunger  on,  and  whom 
it  seemed  that  I  should  benefit  in  some 
marvelous  way  by  eating  mine. 

"  They  can  have  these,"  I  replied,  gen- 
erously, to  such  appeals  to  my  feelings. 
"  I  '11  save  them  for  them  every  day." 

That,  however,  was  before  Lily- Ann 
came,  and  I  learned  that  a  crusty  diet 
was  warranted  to  make  the  hair  curl. 
To  think  that  little  Rhoda  Harcourt 
might  have  curly  hair!  What  a  nice 
thing  that  would  be!  Of  course  it 
meant  months  of  work,  but  Lily- Ann, 
whose  hair  twisted  from  the  roots,  must 
surely  know.  Under  her  encouragement 
I  ate  all  my  own  crusts,  and  begged  so 
earnestly  for  more  at  the  table  that  I 
became  a  wonder  to  the  family. 
[34] 


LILY-ANN 


"  Is  the  curl  coming,  Lily- Ann? "  I 
would  ask,  eagerly,  in  the  mornings 
when  she  stood  over  me,  comb  in  hand. 

"It 's  coming  more  and  more  every 
day,"  she  asserted,  to  my  great  satis- 
faction. 

"Ouch!  How  you  do  hurt,  Lily- 
Ann!" 

'  That 's  because  it 's  so  curly.  See 
that  long,  beautiful  one.  I  can't  hardly 
get  my  comb  through!" 

I  sighed  blissfully  with  my  eyes  full 
of  tears,  and  wondered  when  my  mother 
would  notice  the  change  in  her  little 
girl,  for,  indeed,  something  must  have 
happened  to  my  hair,  judging  from  the 
jerks. 

It  was  Lily- Ann  again  who  taught 
me  how  to  catch  sparrows  by  throwing 
salt  on  their  tails.  I  ran  about  very 
hot  and  eager  all  one  morning,  and 
ended  by  feeling  rather  foolish,  for  not 
a  bird  would  be  caught,  though  I  crept 
[35] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


persistently  on  their  track,  always  sure 
that  the  next  time  I  should  be  success- 
ful. Still,  I  did  not  bear  any  grudge 
against  Lily- Ann.  It  was  not  her  fault 
that  I  was  unfortunate,  and  then,  too, 
she  was  very  sympathetic. 

;'  Why,  my  cousin  caught  one  only 
yesterday!"  she  cried,  in  astonishment. 
"  But  then  she  is  older  than  you  are. 
And  so  smart!  She  turned  a  horsehair 
into  a  snake  once.  Did  you  ever  do 
that,  ma'am? " 

"No,"  I  answered,  doubtfully;  and 
immediately  added,  with  growing  en- 
thusiasm, "  oh,  I  should  so  like  to  do 
that!" 

The  end  of  it  was  that  a  faint  sus- 
picion which  had  crept  upon  me  after 
the  sparrow  episode  was  quenched  in 
the  zeal  with  which  I  set  myself  to  the 
awful  task  of  raising  snakes  by  the 
wholesale.  There  was  always  a  touch 
of  dread  in  the  eagerness  with  which  I 
[36] 


LILY-ANN 


visited  the  snake  incubator,  —  a  rusty 
pan  half -filled  with  water,  and  hidden 
in  a  secret  space  behind  the  lilac  bush. 
Little  by  little  the  horror  of  the  situa- 
tion so  overcame  me  that  I  hurriedly 
weeded  the  horsehairs  out;  but  the  six 
that  remained  were  the  finest  and  long- 
est which  I  could  find,  destined,  I  could 
easily  expect  from  their  size,  to  become 
boa-constrictors. 

I  believed  everything  that  Lily- Ann 
told  me.  Up  to  that  time  there  had 
never  been  occasion  for  me  to  question 
any  one's  truth,  nor  had  there  been  any- 
thing of  which  to  be  afraid.  Now  I 
learned  of  a  new  world  that  lay  about 
me,  —  the  Land  of  the  Dark,  —  in  which 
familiar  furniture  played  wild  pranks, 
and  shadows  came  to  have  a  very  ter- 
rible meaning. 

"  After  you  go  to  bed  at  night,"  Lily- 
Ann  said,  impressively,  holding  up  a  fat 
forefinger,  "  there  are  Things  that  come 
[37] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


out  and  run  all  about  the  floor!  Under 
the  chairs  and  under  the  be'd  they  creep 
around.  Especially  under  the  bed.  If 
you  should  let  your  hand  hang  down,  a 
Thing  would  take  it  and  shake  it!" 

I  peered  at  her  from  out  the  shelter 
of  the  bed-clothes,  for  I  was  in  bed 
when  this  was  first  related,  and  she  was 
sitting  by  me  until  I  should  go  to  sleep. 

"  I  shall  never  do  that,  Lily- Ann,"  I 
said,  faintly,  gluing  my  arms  closer  to 
my  sides. 

'  You  might  in  your  sleep,"  she  re- 
turned, with  grim  significance. 

"  And  that  ain't  all,"  she  went  on,  after 
a  short  but  terrible  pause.  '  There  's  a 
Bear  in  the  garret.  He  wants  some- 
thing." 

"  What  does  he  want?  "  I  asked,  fear- 
fully, determined  to  know  the  worst  at 
once. 

"  He  wants  a  bad  child.     He  's  hun- 

gry!" 

[38] 


LILY-ANN 


Now  I  was  bad,  as  I  had  just  reason 
to  know.  Lily-Ann  used  to  examine 
my  record  every  night,  and  she  was  the 
greatest  one  that  I  have  ever  seen  for 
pointing  out  flaws  in  character. 

"  I  don't  think  I  Ve  been  very  bad 
to-day,  Lily- Ann,"  I  said,  trembling. 

"  You  took  your  little  brother's  ball," 
she  answered,  shortly. 

"  But  I  gave  it  back  to  him!  "  I  cried, 
aghast. 

"  You  slapped  your  little  sister." 

"  But  she  slapped  me,  too!  "  I  pleaded. 

"  Not  until  after  you  slapped  her. 
And  you  are  six  years  old." 

That  was  one  of  the  unkindest  things 
about  Lily- Ann;  she  was  always  trying 
to  make  me  live  up  to  my  station.  And 
it  was  so  hard  to  be  good,  and  hardest 
of  all  to  be  good  enough  for  my  great 
age.  That  night,  however,  I  made  a 
compact  with  her. 

"  Dear  Lily- Ann,"  I  said,  piteously, 
[39] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


"if  I  go  right  to  sleep  by  myself,  so 
you  can  get  your  supper,  will  you  chase 
away  the  Things  and  tell  the  Bear  that 
there  is  no  bad  child  in  this  house?" 

I  was  not  prone  to  criticise  my  elders 
and  betters;  but  somehow  I  had  re- 
marked that  Lily- Ann  was  fond  of  her 
supper. 

She  went  away  without  much  urging, 
and  I  lay  there  miserably  in  the  dark. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  there  was  a  stir 
all  through  the  quiet  room,  and  out  in 
the  hall  the  garret  door  creaked  in  a 
new  manner.  The  dark  was  so  much 
blacker  than  it  had  ever  been  before, 
and  even  when  I  went  down  head  and 
all  under  the  covers  I  could  hear  the 
Things  pattering  about  the  floor,  and 
the  Bear  rattling  at  the  knob.  Many 
a  night  after  that  I  huddled  myself  up 
into  a  heap,  afraid  to  sleep  lest  my 
hands  should  unclasp  and  slip  out  of 
bed,  afraid  to  move  lest  the  Bear  on 
[40] 


LILY-ANN 


the  prowl  for  bad  children  should 
pounce  on  me  and  eat  me  up,  sins  and 
all.  I  used  to  pretend  to  sleep  very 
loudly  and  heavily  that  he  might  think 
me  a  good  child.  Still,  I  felt  that  it 
must  be  hard  to  deceive  a  Bear,  and  that 
sooner  or  later  he  would  make  an  end 
of  me.  As  for  the  Things,  I  never  had 
any  hope  of  getting  the  better  of  them. 
All  through  the  long  nights  they  slipped 
and  slid  about,  or  stood  waiting  at  the 
edge  of  the  bed  to  shake  hands,  with  a 
friendliness  that  was  truly,  awful. 

Even  in  my  greatest  fear,  however,  I 
never  betrayed  Lily- Ann.  I  was  too 
much  in  her  power  to  dare  to  tell  tales 
about  her.  I  used  to  marvel  when  the 
family  commented  on  her  faithfulness, 
or  devised  schemes  for  improving  the 
home  from  which  she  had  come.  Many 
large  bundles  went  out  of  our  house, 
and  I  often  heard  my  mother  speaking 
in  a  sympathetic  fashion  of  the  little 
[41] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


girl  whose  childhood  was  passed  in  the 
service  of  others. 

"  Poor  Lily- Ann,  she  's  never  had  any 
childhood  of  her  own,"  she  would  say, 
regretfully. 

Out  in  the  kitchen,  too.,  I  had  heard 
our  Norah  exchanging  confidences  on 
the  subject  with  her  cousin,  who  came 
in  sometimes,  when  there  was  company, 
to  help  with  the  work. 

"  I  give  her  all  the  cold  things  to 
take  home  every  night,"  Norah  con- 
fided. ;' The  praties  and  bits  of  mate; 
just  anything.  They  are  that  starving 
that  they  are  not  particular.  Every 
smithereen  of  clothes  that  she  has  the  mis- 
tress gave  her,  and  the  old  lady  has  been 
open-handed,  too.  There  's  many  a  ten- 
dollar  bill  finds  its  way  to  that  house." 

The  cousin  sniffed. 

"  The  rest  of  us  have  to  work   for 
our  own,"  she  said.     "  Faith,  it 's  fine 
to  be  reckless  sometimes." 
[42] 


LILY-ANN 


"  But  I  'm  not  trusting  her,"  Norah 
continued,  darkly.  "  She  tells  lies. 
And  she  's  cross  to  my  child! " 

"Who  is  your  child,  Norah?"  I 
asked,  with  sudden  eagerness,  pressing 
up  close  to  her  gingham  apron. 

Norah  lifted  me  upon  her  capacious 
lap  and  patted  my  back. 

"  And  it 's  herself  that  wants  to 
know,"  she  cried,  with  a  rallying  laugh. 
"See  that  now!  Ain't  she  growing  a 
big  girl,  Bridget?  See  the  praties  in 
her  cheeks !  Sure,  she  's  purty  enough 
to  be  Irish." 

"But  who  is  your  child,  Norah?"  I 
persisted,  jealously;  and  it  was  only 
when  a  burst  of  laughter  broke  from 
the  two  women  that  I  understood,  and 
hid  my  face  in  the  concealing  folds  of 
the  gingham  apron. 

I  was  very  good  to  Lily- Ann  after 
this  time.  Not  that  I  had  ever  been 
bad  to  her  before;  but  now  I  began  to 
[43] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


join  in  the  work  of  charity.  I  made  her 
a  present  of  the  little  gold  locket  which 
my  grandmother  Lawrence  gave  me  on 
my  last  birthday,  and  of  my  second-best 
pair  of  shoes,  which  had  been  red  once, 
and  still  retained  a  delightful  color.  I 
wanted  to  give  her  my  Sunday  cloak, 
also,  but  she  reminded  me  that  there 
were  other  Sundays  yet  to  come.  She 
did  take  my  bank  with  its  one  jingling 
gold  coin  in  it.  Unfortunately,  all  the 
money  of  less  value  had  been  pried  out 
long  ago  to  buy  candy,  but  I  told  Lily- 
Ann  how  sorry  I  was  that  the  little  red 
house  was  not  rilled  to  the  chimney  with 
pennies.  I  promised  that  I  would  give 
her  all  my  money  in  the  future  to  take 
home  to  her  family,  so  that  they  might 
never  be  hungry  again.  Lily- Ann  heard 
me  in  silence.  She  did  not  thank  me 
with  her  lips,  but  when  the  Things  grew 
too  rampant  at  night  she  would  reprove 
them  sometimes  in  a  stern  manner. 
[44] 


LILY-ANN 


"  Go  away ! "  she  would  cry,  stamp- 
ing her  foot  energetically.  "  Rhoda  is 
a  good  child." 

The  Tilings  and  the  Bear  all  grunted 
with  the  same  voice  as  they  retreated  in 
discontent  to  their  lairs;  but  I  was  not 
critical.  It  was  enough  for  me  that  they 
went,  if  only  for  a  time.  Always  I  re- 
membered that  Lily- Ann  could  summon 
them  at  will,  and  her  importance  grew 
greater  day  by  day. 

There  were  hours,  however,  when  I 
escaped  into  the  safety  of  my  mother's 
room.  I  was  not  too  small  to  under- 
stand the  delights  of  that  cheerful  room, 
—  the  glittering  objects  on  the  dress- 
ing-table, the  deep  bureau  drawers  filled 
with  wonders  much  too  dainty  for  a 
child  to  touch.  There  were  keepsakes, 
also,  mementos  of  my  mother's  child- 
hood and  youth;  prize  books  in  foreign 
tongues,  won  at  school  and  laid  away 
in  tissue  paper;  bits  of  costly  lace,  and 
[45] 


THE    CHRONICLES    or    RHODA 


many  little  worthless,  well-beloved  pos- 
sessions. In  the  closet  there  was  a  box 
on  an  upper  shelf.  Quite  an  ordinary 
box  it  was  on  the  outside,  made  of 
pasteboard  and  tied  with  bands  of  yel- 
low ribbon  which  had  once  been  white. 
My  mother  lifted  the  cover  one  day, 
and  showed  me  what  was  inside.  It 
was  the  most  wonderful  thing,  and  it 
had  come  off  her  wedding-cake.  There 
was  a  white  platform  surrounded  with  a 
wreath  of  white  roses  and  leaves,  and  in  the 
center  of  the  platform  there  stood  under  a 
wreathed  arch  two  little  dolls,  arm  in  arm. 

"  They  are  going  to  be  married,"  my 
mother  said.  :'  They  came  off  the  top 
of  my  cake  when  I  was  married." 

"  Oh,  is  n't  it  too  sweet  for  any- 
thing!" I  cried,  in  an  ecstasy.  "But, 
mother,  why  does  the  lady  doll  wear  a 
veil?" 

"  All  brides  do.  You  shall,  too,  some 
day." 

[46] 


LILY-ANN 


"Shall  I?"  I  questioned,  doubtfully. 
"  But,  mother,  dear,  suppose  I  should 
grow  up,  and  never  get  married,  won't 
you  give  me  these  little  dolls  to  play 
with? " 

"  If  that  should  happen  I  suppose  I 
must,"  my  mother  said,  with  a  laugh, 
and  tied  the  box  up  tightly  again,  and 
put  it  back  on  the  upper  shelf. 

I  dreamed  about  that  box.  I  talked 
of  it  to  Lily- Ann,  and  described  the 
enchanting  veil  at  great  length;  and  I 
even  condescended  to  tell  the  twins 
about  the  dolls  that  mother  had.  Once, 
with  great  pain  from  the  acute  rasping 
of  my  knees,  I  climbed  up  the  closet 
shelves,  and  peeked  in  a  loose  corner  of 
the  box.  Then  I  came  down  again, 
perfectly  satisfied,  for  the  dolls  were 
still  there,  and  if  I  escaped  marriage 
they  were  to  be  my  own.  I  determined 
that  I  would  never  marry.  It  would 
be  at  too  great  a  cost. 
[47] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


Soon  after  this  there  came  a  day  when 
everything  seemed  to  go  wrong.  Lily- 
Ann  was  very  cross,  while  my  mother 
looked  sad  and  even  frightened.  She 
went  up  and  down  stairs  many  times. 
She  watched  me  furtively,  and  asked 
whispered  questions  of  Lily- Ann.  I 
wondered  what  Lily- Ann  could  possi- 
bly be  telling  her.  I  knew  that  it  was 
not  about  me,  for  I  had  been  very  good 
that  afternoon.  To  be  sure,  I  had 
pulled  the  cat's  tail;  but  she  and  I  had 
kissed  each  other  affectionately  after- 
wards, and  were  friends  again.  Nor 
was  Lily- Ann  apt  to  reveal  my  mis- 
deeds. She  liked  to  judge  me  herself 
in  that  dread  hour  when  the  dark 
brought  repentance.  Still,  as  the  ques- 
tions went  on  and  on,  I  was  sure  that 
I  heard  my  name,  not  once  but  many 
times,  now  from  Lily-Ann,  and  now 
from  my  mother,  with  a  gasp  of 
dismay. 

[48] 


LILY-ANN 


Then  my  mother  took  me  in  her  arms 
and  kissed  me,  and  rocked  me  as  if  I 
were  a  baby  again,  and  in  the  middle 
of  it  all  made  me  a  little  confidence. 

"  Rhoda,  mother  always  meant  to  give 
you  those  little  dolls,"  she  said. 

"  Oh,  did  you,  mother! "  I  cried, 
eagerly. 

'  But  giving  is  different  from  taking. 
Do  you  know  what  it  means  to  steal  a 
thing,  Rhoda?" 

I  nodded  solemnly. 

"  '  Thou  shalt  not  steal,'  you  know  the 
Bible  says." 

"  Yes,  mother." 

"Did  you  climb  up  into  my  closet  one 
day?" 

I  hung  my  head. 

"  Rhoda,  when  you  knew  that  you 
had  only  to  ask  for  mother  to  give  them 
to  you,  why  did  you  take  away  my  little 
dolls?" 

"  But  I  did  not  take  them,"  I  cried, 
4  [49] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


in  surprise.  "  I  only  looked  at  them. 
Was  I  very  bad,  mother? " 

"  You  did  n't  take  them?  Think  what 
you  are  saying,  Rhoda." 

"  I  did  not  take  them,"  I  protested, 
breaking  into  tears,  for  though  I  was 
bad,  I  knew  that  I  was  not  that  bad. 

I  could  see  that  she  did  not  believe  me. 
She  sighed  in  a  way  that  I  had  never 
heard  my  mother  sigh  before,  and  set  me 
down  on  the  floor  beside  her.  Then  she 
took  me  by  the  hand,  and  we  made  a 
very  solemn  pilgrimage  up  the  stairs, 
and  through  her  room  into  the  one  which 
was  my  own,  straight  up  into  the  corner 
where  my  doll-house  stood.  She  opened 
the  little  door,  and  motioned  me  to  look 
in.  The  bride  and  groom  were  leaning 
stiffly  side  by  side  against  the  sofa  in  the 
parlor!  They  stared  back  at  me  with 
scorn  on  their  sugar  faces,  and  there  was, 
also,  something  accusing  in  their  expres- 
sion, as  if  they  were  saying,  "  Little  girl, 
[50] 


LILY-ANN 


how  do  we  come  here?"  Still  I  would 
not  confess.  I  had  not  taken  them.  I 
had  wanted  them  very  much,  but  now  I 
did  not  want  them  at  all.  I  should  have 
liked  to  smash  their  sugar  heads,  for  it 
was  their  fault.  They  had  done  it  them- 
selves, stepping  down  from  their  high 
shelf  in  the  middle  of  the  night.  They 
were  tired  of  living  tied  up  in  a  box,  and 
wanted  my  doll-house  to  set  up  house- 
keeping in.  They  had  done  it  them- 
selves just  to  plague  me.  There  was  no 
other  way  to  explain  it. 

"  What  does  she  say?  "  grandmother 
asked,  creeping  in  behind  us. 

"  Not  the  truth  !  "  my  mother  cried. 
"  I  should  never  have  suspected  my  child 
of  lying  and  stealing!  But  Lily-  Ann 
says  it  is  not  the  first  time  !  " 

I  stood  and  looked  at  them.    It  almost 

seemed  as  if  I  did  not  love  them  any 

more.    They  knew  me  so  little  that  they 

thought  I  could  steal  those  sugar  dolls. 

[51] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


"  Grandma,  put  her  to  bed  for  me," 
my  mother  said,  still  with  that  fright- 
ened look  on  her  face.  "  I  don't  know 
what  to  say  to  her.  I  must  ask  her 
father." 

Grandmother  put  me  to  bed,  with 
slow,  patient  fingers.  She  tucked  me  in, 
and  kissed  me  in  quite  a  tender  way. 

"  Tell  grandma,"  she  urged,  in  a 
whisper,  bending  down  until  her  spec- 
tacles touched  my  hot  cheek. 

But  still  I  would  not  confess. 

It  was  very  quiet  in  my  little  room 
after  she  had  gone.  I  could  hear  the 
dishes  rattling  down-stairs,  as  Norah 
set  the  table  with  a  bang  of  the  plates 
and  a  thump  of  the  knives.  We  were 
going  to  have  honey  for  supper  and 
little  cakes  with  frosted  tops  baked 
in  scolloped  patty-pans.  I  wondered 
whether  I  should  have  any  supper,  or 
must  lie  there  in  the  dark,  while  they 
talked  about  me  at  the  supper-table. 
[52]' 


LILY-ANN 


I  did  not  think  that  I  could  enjoy 
frosted  cake  baked  in  scolloped  patty- 
pans if  my  little  girl  were  alone  up-stairs 
in  the  dark.  When  I  grew  up  and  mar- 
ried, for  I  might  as  well  marry  now,  I 
would  never  treat  any  one  so.  Never! 
Never!  !  Never!  !  ! 

"  Oh,  please,  God,  let  me  hurry  and 
grow  up,"  I  whispered  to  the  darkness. 
"  And,  oh,  please,  God,  let  me  have 
frosted  cake  for  my  supper! " 

I  waited  for  the  prayer  to  bear  fruit. 
Sometimes  prayers  were  rather  slow.  I 
heard  my  father  come  home  with  a  cheer- 
ful rustle  of  parcels.  He  hung  up  his 
coat  and  hat  in  the  hall,  and  tiptoed  up- 
stairs to  wash  his  hands.  He  knew  that 
the  twins  were  asleep  in  their  cribs;  but 
he  did  not  know  that  I  was  beyond  in  the 
darkness,  afraid  to  speak  to  him.  He 
did  not  miss  me,  although  I  was  always 
the  first  to  welcome  him  at  the  door. 
Nobody  seemed  to  miss  me.  I  heard 
[53] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


them  draw  up  their  chairs  to  the  table. 
Now  they  were  eating  honey.  Now 
they  were  eating  frosted  cake.  Lily- 
Ann  would  have  some  of  the  cake. 
They  believed  in  her.  It  was  only  their 
own  little  girl  whom  they  sent  to  bed 
without  her  supper.  It  was  only  Rhoda 
whom  nobody  loved.  If  God  would 
let  me  grow  up  quick,  I  would  go  away 
and  not  be  a  trouble  to  them  any  more. 
Perhaps  off  in  the  country  I  might  find 
somebody  who  would  love  me,  and  be- 
lieve in  me,  for  I  did  not  want  to  be 
loved  unless  I  was  believed  in.  I  should 
be  very  lonely  at  first,  nearly  as  lonely 
as  I  was  now.  A  sore  place  came  in 
my  throat  that  made  me  cry  because  it 
hurt  so. 

The  kitchen  door  opened  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  a  whirlwind  swept  into  the 
dining-room.  There  was  a  pause,  punc- 
tuated by  loud  remarks  delivered  in  a 
high  Irish  voice,  and  then  the  whirl- 
[54] 


LILY-ANN 


wind  came  up  the  stairs,  and  swept  me 
out  of  my  bed.  It  was  Norah.  I  clung 
to  her,  for  she  was  the  only  thing  which 
I  had  left  to  love  in  the  whole  world. 
My  father  and  mother  had  deserted  me, 
but  Norah  was  staunch.  She  kissed  me 
as  she  carried  me,  big  girl  as  I  was, 
straight  down  the  steps  into  the  daz- 
zling light  of  the  supper-table.  Norah 
was  excited.  She  had  a  red  spot  on 
each  cheek,  and  her  eyes  shone  like 
stars.  She  held  me  tightly  with  one 
arm  and  gesticulated  with  the  other. 
Against  the  white  panel  of  the  kitchen 
door  Lily- Ann  was  crouched  in  a  timid, 
frightened  fashion,  with  all  the  spirit 
gone  out  of  her  wide  face,  and  almost 
the  very  curl  gone  out  of  her  hair. 

"  She  had  them  dolls  yisterday," 
Norah  cried,  accusingly,  her  finger 
pointed  straight  at  the  kitchen  door. 
"  I  saw  them  in  her  box.  Sure,  I 
thought  that  the  mistress  gave  them  to 
[55] 


THE    CHRONICLES    or    RHODA 


her,  and  it 's  not  for  the  likes  of  me  to 
say  what  the  mistress  shall  give  or  not 
give.  Then  this  morning  when  there 
was  questions  asked,  she  crept  upstairs 
and  put  them  in  the  doll-house.  The 
sarpent!  Is  my  child  to  lie  in  the  dark 
crying  her  heart  out,  and  that  sarpent 
set  at  my  kitchen-table  drinking  her 
tay,  and  telling  me  wicked  tales  of  my 
child?" 

Nobody  answered  her.  They  stared 
at  her  in  bewilderment.  Norah  had 
never  acted  like  that  before. 

"If  there  was  questions  to  be  asked, 
why  wasn't  I  asked?"  she  went  on, 
angrily.  "  If  the  mistress  or  the  master 
had  said  to  me,  '  Norah,  where  's  them 
little  dolls? '  I  would  have  told  them  the 
truth.  I  would  have  said,  '  Lily- Ann 
stole  them  yisterday,  ma'am,  and  to-day 
she  put  them  in  the  doll-house,  sur.' 
But,  no,  they  don't  ask  honest  old 
Norah.  They  listen  to  that  sarpent 
[56] 


LILY-ANN 


backbiting  my  child.  The  little  inno- 
cent creatur!  The  dear  little  old-fash- 
ioned thing  that  niver  took  nought 
from  nobody! " 

I  put  my  arms  around  Norah's  neck, 
and  hugged  her  until  I  nearly  strangled 
her. 

"Give  Rhoda  to  me,  Norah,"  my 
mother  said,  jealously. 

"  There  's  only  one  thing  more  to  be 
said,  ma'am,"  Norah  continued,  obsti- 
nately standing  her  ground,  still  with 
my  arms  about  her  neck.  "  Either  old 
Norah  goes  or  that  sarpent  goes.  I  '11 
have  no  sarpents  in  my  kitchen." 

They  were  all  looking  at  Lily- Ann 
now.  There  was  a  ring  of  truth  about 
Norah's  story  which  had  convinced  them 
at  last. 

"  Have  you  anything  to  say,  Lily- 
Ann?"  my  father  asked,  sternly. 

She    had    nothing   to    say.      As    she 
drooped  a  little  closer  to  the  door  and 
[57] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


wiped  her  eyes  in  a  miserable  fashion, 
I  felt  that  I  could  forgive  her  all  the 
harm  which  she  had  done  me.  Poor 
Lily-Ann,  who  my  mother  said  had 
never  been  a  child! 

"  Oh,  please,  Nor  ah,  let  Lily- Ann 
stay!  "  I  cried,  piteously.  "  I  '11  be  so 
good  if  you'll  let  Lily- Ann  stay!" 

Norah  might,  perhaps,  have  been 
softened  by  my  appeal,  but  my  father 
would  not  listen.  The  words  which  he 
used  were  very  stern  ones,  and  his  was 
the  hand  that  held  open  the  door  for 
Lily-Ann  to  pass  out  of  the  house. 
She  went  slowly,  almost  regretfully,  as 
though  at  the  last  she  felt  repentance. 
I  never  saw  her  again. 

It  was  many  a  long  year,  however, 
before  I  cast  off  her  evil  spell.  Even 
in  the  illnesses  of  my  maturer  years 
those  crawling  Things  have  come  back, 
passing  across  the  mirror  of  a  pain- 
racked  mind  with  all  the  horror  of  child- 
[58] 


LILY-ANN 


ish  ignorance  and  fear.  Yet  I  still  feel 
that  I  have  forgiven  Lily- Ann.  Com- 
ing from  the  home  that  she  did,  and 
unwatched  and  unsuspected  as  she  was, 
she  might  easily  have  destroyed  the 
holy  innocence  of  a  child's  life.  But 
she  left  me  as  she  found  me. 

I  went  upstairs  very  quietly  that 
night.  There  was  a  candle  burning 
on  the  bedroom  table,  and  something 
which  my  prayer  had  brought,  some- 
thing frosted,  with  scolloped  edges,  was 
tucked  under  my  pillow.  The  whole 
family  came  to  put  me  to  bed,  and 
made  so  much  of  me  that  I  glowed 
under  their  affection. 

"  She  will  forget  it  all  in  time,"  my 
father  said,  tenderly,  unwitting  of  my 
long  memory.  "  Evil  dies  away  quickly 
from  a  child's  mind." 

My  mother  was  more  impulsive.  She 
went  down  on  her  knees  and  put  her 
arms  about  me. 

[59] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


"  Forgive  mother,"  she  whispered,  with 
her  mouth  against  my  ear.  "  Mother 
knows  how  true  you  are,  Rhoda!" 

After  all  there  was  really  something 
for  which  to  thank  Lily- Ann. 


[60] 


Ill 
THE  OLD  MAJOR 


ABOUT  our  house  there  was  a  garden, 
with  round  beds  of  blooming  plants, 
and  a  shady  apple-tree  or  two  to  break 
the  glare  of  the  summer  sun.  In  one 
corner  the  hollyhocks  grew,  and  along 
the  path  to  the  gate  purple  flags  ap- 
peared each  spring  in  uneven  rows,  like 
isolated  bands  of  soldiers  marching  on 
a  common  enemy.  There  were  dande- 
lions in  the  grass,  and  a  lilac  bush  near 
the  front  door.  Here  I  used  to  play, 
in  a  bright  pink  sun-bonnet,  and  little 
black  slippers  which  buttoned  with  a 
band  about  my  ankle.  Secretly  I  con- 
sidered myself  rather  beautiful,  and  as 
for  my  conquests,  they  stretched  down 
the  street  and  around  the  block.  There 
[63] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


was  the  grocer's  boy,  and  the  elderly 
lady  from  over  the  way,  who  wore  one 
kind  of  hair  in  the  morning  and  another 
kind  in  the  afternoon,  and  ordinary 
strangers  passing  through  the  town, 
and,  last  of  all,  but  first  in  my  estima- 
tion, the  old  major. 

Every  day  at  the  same  hour  he  passed 
the  house,  leaning  on  a  cane.  When 
the  sun  was  bright  he  stepped  along 
quickly,  with  an  alert  carriage  of  the 
head;  but  there  were  cloudy  days  when 
his  step  was  slow  and  feeble,  and  even 
his  smile  lost  some  of  its  usual  charm. 

"  Hello,  little  girl,"  he  said,  in  a  pon- 
derous fashion,  the  first  time  that  he 
saw  me  perched  on  the  gate.  "Hello! 
Hello!  Hello!" 

The  hellos  reached  a  long  distance, 
and  grew  very  gruff  at  the  end,  but 
there  was  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  and  he 
had  a  beautiful  bright  star  on  his  watch- 
chain,  with  which  I  longed  to  play. 
[64] 


THE    OLD    MAJOR 


I  gravely  put  out  a  small  hand  to 
him. 

"  My  name  is  Rhoda,"  I  said,  in  a 
burst  of  confidence.  "  I  live  here  in  this 
house.  I  was  six  years  old  yesterday." 

"Were  you!"  he  replied,  evidently 
much  impressed.  '  That 's  very  old, 
very  old." 

He  went  on  slowly  down  the  block, 
but  when  he  turned  on  his  way  back, 
he  stopped  again  at  the  gate  to  discuss 
my  age. 

"  Six,  was  it  ?  "  he  questioned.  "  Well ! 
Well!  Perhaps  you  can  tell  me  what 
time  it  is." 

I  shook  my  head,  with  a  fascinated 
look  at  the  gleaming  star. 

"  I  have  n't  a  watch." 

"  But  you  don't  need  a  watch,"  he 
answered.  "  See  here." 

He  stooped  down,  painfully,  grasping 
the  fence  for  support,  and  picked  the 
snowy  seed-ball  of  a  dandelion  plant. 
5  [65] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


Then  he  straightened  up,   slowly,   and 
blew  at  the  feathery  toy. 

"  One,  two,  three,  four,  five !  Five 
o'clock.  Time  for  the  old  major  to  go 
in  out  of  the  damp." 

Then  he  turned  away  from  me,  and 
went  on  up  the  street,  his  cane  digging 
little  holes  in  the  path,  and  he  himself 
forgetting  all  about  the  child  whom  he 
had  left  still  perched  on  her  gate.  I 
had  not  entirely  passed  from  his  mem- 
ory, however,  for  when  he  came  to  his 
own  gate  far  in  the  distance,  he  took 
off  his  hat,  and  gallantly  waved  it  to 
me  before  he  went  in  out  of  the  damp. 

"Mother,  I  love  the  old  major!"  I 
said  one  day. 

"  What  major?"  my  mother  asked, 
looking  up  from  her  work  with  a  smile. 

She  was  making  small  ruffled  skirts 
and  aprons  with  pockets.  She  could 
make  the  most  beautiful  things,  all  out 
of  her  own  head. 

[66] 


THE    OLD    MAJOR 


"  What  major?  Why,  my  major. 
Mother,  has  the  old  major  any  little 
girls  or  boys  that  I  could  play  with? 
Oh,  I  should  so  like  to  play  with  his 
little  girls  and  boys ! " 

"  Major  Daniel  Clark  has  n't  any 
little  girls  or  boys.  He  lost  them  all, 
dear.  He  is  a  very  lonely  man." 

"  Did  n't  he  ever  find  them  again, 
mother?  " 

"  No,  dear.     Never  again." 

Now,  I  was  very  good  at  finding 
things.  I  found  grandmother's  spec- 
tacles ten  times  a  day,  even  when  they 
were  only  lost  in  her  soft,  white  hair. 
And  once  I  found  mother's  thimble  when 
little  brother  Dick  had  it  in  his  mouth, 
and  it  was  just  going  down  red  lane. 
Norah  said  that  I  had  a  pair  of  bright 
eyes,  and  my  very  father,  when  he 
wanted  his  slippers,  could  think  of  no 
one  so  trustworthy  to  send  as  I.  To 
find  little  girls  and  boys  would  be  quite 
[67] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


easy,  for  they  were  much  larger  things. 
I  had  only  to  ask  all  the  girls  and  boys 
who  came  past  my  gate  if  they  belonged 
to  the  major,  and,  when  the  right  ones 
came,  we  would  run  hand-in-hand  up 
to  that  distant  door  and  go  in.  He 
would  be  so  pleased,  and  never  lonely 
again.  And,  perhaps —  Just  suppose 
that  he  would  be  my  friend  forever  and 
ever! 

I  was  waiting  on  my  gate  the  next 
day  when  he  came  by. 

"Oh,  Major!"  I  cried,  excitedly, 
nodding  my  head  at  him,  "  I  'm  going 
to  find  your  little  girls  and  boys  for 
you!" 

"  My  little  girls  and  boys? "  he  asked, 
perplexed. 

'  Yes.  The  ones  that  you  lost  so  long 
ago." 

He  turned  quite  suddenly  on  his  way, 
so  quickly  that  I  thought  that  he  was 
angry,  but  when  he  came  back  he 
[68] 


THE    OLD    MAJOR 


stopped  at  the  gate  again.  He  took 
my  face  softly  between  his  hands, 
and  looked  downydeep  into  my  eyes, 
into  the  little  circles  where  there  were 
pictures. 

;'  When  you  grow  up,  always  remem- 
ber that  the  old  major  loved  you,"  he 
said,  hurriedly,  and  then  went  back 
toward  the  house  from  which  he  had 
come  out  so  shortly  before. 

We  were  great  friends  after  that. 
We  held  long  conversations  over  the 
gate,  about  my  dolls,  and  the  hobby- 
horse which  had  lately  come  to  live  in 
the  hall.  We  discussed  the  best  way  to 
raise  children,  and  how  convenient  it 
would  be  if  aprons  could  only  be  made 
to  button  in  front.  We  both  had  origi- 
nal ideas  on  things,  and  often  differed, 
but  none  of  my  new  clothes  ever  seemed 
quite  real  to  me  until  the  major  had 
admired  them,  and  pinched  my  cheeks 
with  that  air  of  gallantry  which  showed 
[69] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


that  I  was  a  woman.  He  brought  me 
presents,  very  wonderful  things;  bright 
pebbles  which  he  picked  up  on  the  street, 
willow  whistles,  and  a  tiny  basket  carved 
from  a  peach-stone,  which  I  hung  on  a 
ribbon  about  my  neck.  I  gave  him 
flowers,  and  once,  when  no  one  was  look- 
ing, I  let  him  kiss  me  in  the  shadow  of 
the  pink  sunbonnet. 

If  the  major  and  I  met  thus  on  the 
sunny  days,  when  it  rained  there  came 
a -blank  in  my  life.  Then  he  could  not 
go  out  at  all,  but  must  stay  shut  up  in 
his  house  until  the  weather  cleared  again. 
There  was  something  the  matter  with 
the  major  which  made  this  necessary. 
In  some  unaccountable  way  he  was  dif- 
ferent from  other  people,  and  to  be 
different  from  other  people  was  sad, 
and  was,  moreover,  a  thing  which  never 
happened  in  our  family. 

Now,  grandmother  had  a  little  red 
brick  house  that  stood  on  her  mantel- 
[70] 


THE    OLD    MAJOR 


piece  which  aided  me  a  great  deal  in 
the  stormy  times.  A  little  man  and 
woman  lived  in  this  house  who  were 
never  of  the  same  mind,  and  carried 
their  lack  of  sympathy  to  such  an 
alarming  extent  that  they  used  separate 
doors,  and,  as  far  as  I  could  see,  had 
never  met  in  the  course  of  their  lives. 
For  as  sure  as  the  man  with  the  um- 
brella came  out  of  one  door,  the  little 
lady  with  the  roses  in  her  bonnet  gath- 
ered up  her  skirts,  and  scurried  in  as 
if  she  were  afraid  to  meet  him.  With 
her  went  the  sunshine  and  the  blue  look 
to  the  sky,  and  the  rain  came  down 
heavy  and  fast.  But  if  the  old  man  went 
into  his  house,  the  old  lady  sprang  out, 
with  a  smile  on  her  face,  the  rain 
stopped  falling,  and  the  sun  came  out. 
Then,  by  and  by,  the  major  would 
walk  down  the  street,  and  stop  to  chat 
awhile. 

I    used   to    run    into    grandmother's 
[71] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


room   every   morning   to   look   at   that 
house. 

"  Grandma,"  I  cried,  eagerly,  "  has 
the  little  lady  come  out  to-day?" 

Then  I  took  my  stand  soberly  in 
front  of  the  mantelpiece  and  regarded 
the  two  figures  with  much  attention. 

"  Grandma,"  I  said  once,  "  do  you 
think  that  they  can  be  relations? " 

Grandmother  took  up  a  stitch  in  her 
knitting  without  replying. 

"  Because,  if  they  are,"  I  went  on, 
indignantly,  "  I  think  that  they  ought 
to  be  ashamed !  " 

"Ashamed  of  what,  Rhoda?" 

:<  Why,  of  the  way  that  they  act. 
They  don't  even  look  at  each  other! 
And,  grandma,  I  think  that  he 's  the 
worst.  He  goes  in  with  such  a  click 
when  she  comes  out.  He 's  so  afraid 
that  she  '11  say  something  to  him." 

Grandmother  looked  up  over  her 
spectacles. 

[72] 


THE    OLD    MAJOR 


"  Now  that  I  come  to  think  of  it," 
she  said,  "  they  've  acted  that  way  for 
forty  years." 

"  I  wonder  why  he  don't  like  her? " 
I  went  on,  musingly.  "Is  it  because 
she  's  got  flowers  in  her  bonnet,  and  he 
has  n't?  Look,  grandma,  she  's  coming 
out  very  quietly.  She  's  going  to  catch 
him  this  time.  Oh,  he  's  gone  in  with 
a  click!  And  he  never  said  a  word!" 

:<  We  '11  have  fair  weather  now,  Rhoda." 

"  And  my  major  will  come  out, 
grandma." 

"  He  's  my  major!  "  little  Dick  cried. 

"  He  's  my  major!  "  Beatrice  asserted. 

"  No  such  thing! "  I  said,  turning  on 
them  angrily.  "  He  belongs  all  to  me. 
Don't  he,  grandma? " 

Grandmother  did  not  answer,  but  I 
knew  that  he  did.  When  the  twins 
came,  hand-in-hand,  down  the  path  to 
see  him,  he  would  pat  their  fat  arms 
through  the  spokes  of  the  gate,  but  it 
[73] 


THE    CHRONICLES    or    RHODA 


was  always  I  to  whom  he  wished  to 
talk,  for  I  was  more  of  his  own  age 
and  not  a  baby  like  them. 

"Baby  yourself!"  Dick  said,  when  I 
mentioned  this,  and  slapped  me,  but  it 
made  no  difference. 

Sometimes  the  lady  from  across  the 
way  would  come  over  to  walk  with  the 
major.  They  were  old  friends,  and  had 
a  great  deal  to  talk  about.  I  remember 
seeing  her  shake  her  finger  at  him  when 
she  found  him  leaning  on  my  gate. 

"  So  you  're  trying  to  turn  another 
woman's  head!"  she  cried,  gayly. 

He  wheeled  upon  her  with  that  sud- 
den straightening  of  his  shoulders  that 
would  come  so  unexpectedly. 

"Did  I  ever  turn  yours,  Kitty?"  he 
asked,  with  a  mischievous  smile. 

"  Dozens  of  times,"  she  cried.  "  Doz- 
ens of  times ! " 

Then  she  took  his  arm,  and  they  went 
up  and  down  in  the  bright  sunshine, 
[74] 


THE    OLD    MAJOR 


up  and  down,  while  the  major  would 
thump  his  cane  upon  the  ground  with 
that  gruff  laugh  that  always  seemed 
merrier  than  other  people's.  His  white 
hair  was  smoothly  brushed,  and  his  black 
hat  was  set  on  jauntily,  and  his  kind 
eyes  shone  as  if  he  were  young  again. 
I  noticed  that  the  lady  from  over  the 
way  always  wore  a  black  silk  dress  and 
her  best,  curly,  brown  hair  whenever  she 
came  to  walk  with  the  major,  and,  also, 
a  battered  silver  bracelet  which  looked 
as  if  it  had  been  chewed.  The  major 
would  glance  at  it  and  laugh. 

"  I  took  castor-oil  to  buy  that  brace- 
let," he  said  once,  with  his  twinkle. 

It  sounded  funny,  but  I  knew  just 
what  he  meant.  I  had  made  dollars 
and  dollars  myself  taking  castor-oil, 
except  that  time  when  Auntie  May 
mixed  it  so  cunningly  with  lemonade 
that  it  went  down  and  down  to  the 
very  dregs,  and  I  never  discovered  until 
[75] 


then  how  I  had  been  cheated  out  of  my 
just  dues. 

"  So  that  was  it! "  the  lady  from  over 
the  way  exclaimed,  patting  the  bracelet. 
"  I  always  knew  that  there  was  some- 
thing curious  about  it." 

"  It  was  harder  than  leading  a  regi- 
ment into  action,"  the  major  answered, 
soberly,  and  then  broke  into  a  gleeful 
laugh.  "  I  would  n't  do  it  for  you 
now! "  he  cried. 

First  she  threatened  him  with  the 
bracelet.  Then  she  took  his  arm  again, 
and  they  went  on  in  the  sunshine,  talk- 
ing of  all  the  many  people  whom  they 
had  known  in  their  lives.  Her  touch  on 
his  arm  was  very  light,  guiding,  and 
sustaining,  rather  than  dependent,  but 
the  old  major  thought  that  she  leant 
upon  him. 

I  was  not  jealous  of  the  lady  from 
over  the  way.  I  felt  that  we  shared 
the  major  between  us,  and  then  it  was 
176] 


' 


THE    OLD    MAJOR 


always  at  my  gate  that  he  stopped 
first.  It  was  here  that  he  told  me 
about  a  trip  that  he  was  intending  to 
make. 

"  I  'm  going  off  to  the  city  for  a 
week,"  he  said. 

"Are  you,  Major?"  I  questioned, 
sorrowfully,  for  a  week  had  seven  days 
in  it,  and  even  a  day  was  a  long,  long 
time.  No  wonder  that  my  eyes  were 
full  of  tears. 

"There,  there,"  he  said.  "Bear  it 
like  a  woman." 

I  was  not  a  woman,  but  sometimes 
the  major  used  to  forget.  I  thought 
that  it  was  because  I  looked  so  tall 
when  I  stood  on  my  gate. 

He  put  out  his  kind  old  hand  and 
smoothed  my  hair. 

"  What  shall  I  bring  you  from  the 
city?  "  he  asked.  "  A  new  doll?  What 
would  you  like  best  of  all,  Rhoda? " 

I  considered  the  question.  There 
[77] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


were  so  many  things  that  the  major 
might  bring  from  the  city.  There  were 
little  doll-babies,  or  picture-books,  or 
cups  and  saucers,  or  hooples  with  bells. 
Then  I  had  an  inspiration.  I  leaned 
forward  in  a  glow  of  excitement. 

"I  should  like-  Oh,  Major!  Will 
you  really  give  it  to  me?  I  should  like 
the  littlest  watch  in  the  world.  With 
a  star!  With  a  star,  just  like  yours! " 

'  You  shall  have  it,"  he  answered, 
promptly,  as  if  there  was  nothing  un- 
usual in  such  a  grand  request.  "  Now, 
remember,  if  all  goes  well,  I  '11  be  at 
the  gate  a  week  from  to-day.  And 
I  '11  have  that  watch  right  here  in  my 
pocket." 

"  And  I  '11  bring  flowers !  "  I  cried, 
joyfully.  "All  the  flowers  that  you 
love  best,  Major." 

"  Good-by,"  he  said,  with  a  sudden 
touch  of  emotion. 

"  Good-by,"  I  answered,  rather  tear- 
[78] 


THE    OLD    MAJOR 


fully,  for  even  the  watch  could  not  rec- 
oncile me  to  his  absence. 

He  turned  to  go,  and  came  back 
again. 

"  Pray  for  the  old  major,"  he  said, 
in  a  husky  whisper. 

Through  my  tears  I  saw  him  go  up 
the  block,  a  little  slower  than  usual,  as 
if  he  did  not  want  to  go.  At  the  gate 
he  stopped  and  waved  his  hat  to  me,  as 
he  had  done  on  that  first  day,  and 
squared  his  gallant  old  shoulders  before 
he  passed  into  the  house.  I  always 
wished  that  I  had  kissed  him  before  he 
went. 

It  was  not  hard  to  pray  for  the  major, 
for  I  believed  in  the  efficacy  of  prayer. 
When  the  elastic  bands  became  loosened 
in  the  black  doll,  Topsy,  and  she  lost 
her  wool  and  her  legs  at  the  same  time, 
I  went  down,  solemnly,  on  my  knees  on 
the  floor,  and  prayed  for  them  to  grow 
together  again.  And  they  did,  in  the 
[79] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


night.  And  when  I  lost  my  little  front 
tooth,  I  prayed  to  God  and  He  sent  me 
a  new  one!  So  it  was  not  hard  to  pray 
for  the  major.  But  somehow  or  other 
I  did  not  like  to  do  it  before  my 
mother.  It  seemed  such  a  secret  sort 
of  a  prayer.  I  waited  until  I  was  safe 
under  the  covers,  and  she  had  taken 
away  the  light.  Then  I  climbed  out 
of  the  bed,  in  the  big  darkness,  and 
went  down  on  the  floor.  I  prayed  to 
God  to  bless  the  old  major,  and  bring 
him  back  safely  to  me.  I  said  it  over 
twice,  so  that  God  would  not  forget. 

"So  the  old  major  has  gone  to  the 
city,"  my  father  said,  at  the  breakfast 
table.  "  I  can  remember  him  when  he 
was  in  the  pride  of  his  strength,  a  mag- 
nificent figure  on  horseback.  He  never 
rose  as  high  in  the  service  as  he  should. 
He  made  powerful  enemies  and  slipped 
into  the  background." 

"  It 's  twenty  years  since  his  wife 
[80] 


THE    O  Li)    MAJOR 


died,"  my  mother's  soft  voice  added. 
"  He  has  lived  alone  in  that  big  house 
ever  since.  Think  of  it,  Robert!" 

"  Such  is  the  heart's  fidelity,"  father 
answered,  with  his  face  turned  toward 
hers. 

"  When  he  comes  back  we  must  make 
more  of  him,"  mother  said. 

It  was  a  very  long  week,  but  even 
long  weeks  have  a  way  of  slipping  by 
at  last.  I  played  about  the  house  and 
the  garden  with  the  twins,  but  I  never 
went  near  the  gate,  not  until  the  day 
dawned  which  was  seven  times  from  last 
Friday,  and  was  Friday  again,  bright 
and  clear,  the  very  day  for  the  major's 
home-coming.  There  were  so  many 
flowers  in  the  garden  that  morning, 
such  especially  large  ones.  They  knew, 
too,  that  the  major  was  coming  home, 
and  had  put  on  their  prettiest  dresses 
in  his  honor. 

It  was  quite  a  puzzle  to  me  what  I 
6  [81] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    II  HOD  A 


should  put  on.  I  had  a  closet  full  of 
dresses.  There  was  a  beautiful  blue 
silk  one,  too  good  for  anything  but 
church,  which  matched  a  little  blue  para- 
sol. And  there  was  a  lovely  white  one 
with  a  lace  flounce,  which  went  with  my 
scolloped  petticoat.  My  third  best  dress 
had  roses  and  buttons  on  it,  and  the 
fourth  best  was  covered  with  brown 
spots,  like  cough  drops.  I  loved  my 
little  dresses,  and  it  was  so  hard  to  tell 
which  dress  should  come  out,  and 
which  must  stay  shut  up  in  the  closet, 
with  nobody  to  admire  them. 

"  Shall  it  be  the  cough  drop  dress, 
mother? "  I  asked,  uncertainly. 

"  It 's  such  a  wonderful  day,  and 
the  sun  shines  so  bright,  that  I  think 
you  might  put  on  the  white  dress 
with  the  lace  flounce,"  my  mother 
said,  with  that  smile  which  meant  that 
she  was  laughing  with  me,  and  not 
at  me. 

[82] 


THE    OLD    MAJOR 


"And    my    little    black    slippers?" 

"  And  your  little  black  slippers." 

"And,  mother,  you  remember  the 
time  that  I  was  your  little  flower 
girl?  And  you  put  roses  in  my  hair 
so  it  looked  like  a  crown?  I  'd  like 
to  be  the  major's  little  flower  girl." 

My  mother  lent  herself  to  the 
pretty  idea.  She  crowned  my  head 
with  roses.  There  were  roses  at  my 
throat,  and  a  big,  floating,  pink  sash 
swept  down  my  back,  and  there  were 
roses  in  my  hand  for  the  major,  one 
bunch  to  give  him  with  a  kiss  when  he 
came,  and  another  to  give  him  with  my 
love  when  he  went. 

Grandmother  shook  her  wise  head 
when  she  saw  that  toilet. 

"  If  she  were  my  child,"  she  said, 
"  I  should  dress  her  in  brown  ging- 
ham down  to  her  heels,  and  tie  her 
hair  with  shoe-laces." 

I  gasped,  and  mother  laughed. 
[83] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


"  She 's  vain,"  grandmother  went 
on,  severely.  "  Suppose  she  should 
grow  up  a  poppet!" 

I  carried  that  awful  name  out  with 
me  as  I  climbed  upon  the  gate,  and 
stared  out,  bashfully,  at  the  street.  I 
was  afraid  to  think  how  beautiful  I 
might  be. 

The  grocer's  boy  came  by,  my  own 
particular  grocer's  boy.  Stricken 
with  sudden  admiration  for  my 
charms  he  put  down  his  basket,  and 
expressed  his  sentiments. 

"Say,  you  are  a  daisy!"  he  said. 

"  Go  away,  Jakie,"  I  answered, 
with  embarrassment.  "  I  have  n't 
time  to  play  with  you  now.  Go 
away!  I  'm  busy." 

He  was  quite  crushed  by  my  new 
haughtiness,  and  lingered  about, 
thinking  that  I  would  relent,  but  all 
my  smiles  and  flowers  were  waiting  for 
that  bent  figure  which  I  loved  so  well. 
[84] 


THE    OLD    MAJOR 


An  hour  slipped  by,  but  still  the 
major  did  not  come.  My  crown 
grew  heavy  on  my  head,  and  the 
flowers  wilted  in  my  hot  hands.  The 
lady  from  over  the  way  came  to  ask 
me  questions.  She  had  on  her  ugli- 
est hair,  and  there  were  tears  in  her 
eyes. 

"What  are  you  doing,  Rhoda?" 
she  asked,  with  an  anxious  look. 

Then  she   seemed  to  divine. 

'  You    are    not    watching    for    the 
major!"  she  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,"   I   answered,  wearily. 

"  Does  n't  your  mother  know, 
child?"  she  cried.  "But,  then,  he 
never  told  any  one.  They  found 
that  there  must  be  an  operation,  arid 
he  was  not  strong.  There  was  no  one 
whom  he  loved  there  at  the  end.  He 
died,  as  he  lived,  all  alone.  Oh,  poor 
old  man!  Poor  old  man!  Let  me  go 
by,  child!  Let  me  go  by!  " 
[85] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


She  thrust  herself  in  the  little  gate, 
wheeling  me  back  against  the  fence, 
and  went  up  the  path  to  our  house. 

Then,  in  hardly  a  moment,  Norah 
came  out  and  led  me  in,  and  proceeded 
to  take  off  all  my  pretty  things  and 
put  on  a  common  dress,  quite  an  old 
one,  with  a  darn  on  the  sleeve. 

"  I  don't  want  that  dress,  Norah,"  I 
protested.  "  I  want  my  white  dress.  I 
want  to  see  my  major.  I  want  to  be 
his  little  flower  girl." 

I  went  in  where  my  mother  sat  with 
the  lady  from  over  the  way,  and  ex- 
plained the  situation  through  my  tears. 
Mother  was  very  tender  with  me. 
Somehow  I  felt  that  she  herself  was 
sorry  about  something,  for  she  dropped 
a  tear  on  the  wilted  roses  which  I  still 
held  in  my  hand.  Together  we  went 
out  into  the  garden.  Together  we 
gathered  all  the  flowers  that  there  were 
-the  big  ones  and  the  little  ones  — 
[86] 


THE    OLD    MAJOR 


and  formed  them  into  a  great  bunch. 
It  was  for  the  major.  I  danced  with 
sheer  delight,  knowing  only  too  well 
how  the  kind  face  would  light  up  when 
he  saw  all  the  flowers  which  he  had 
admired  so  often  made  a  present  to 
him.  I  added  buttercups,  and  dande- 
lions, and  bits  of  feathery  grass,  while 
mother  watched  me,  with  a  sad  smile, 
and  said  never  a  word. 

The  lady  from  over  the  way  cried 
very  hard  on  our  front  steps,  but  after- 
wards she  dried  her  eyes  and  took  my 
flowers  to  the  major. 

He  did  not  come  the  next  day  or 
the  next,  though  I  watched  at  the  gate, 
and  then  something  strange  happened. 
I  was  told  not  to  go  into  the  garden. 

"  Not  this  morning,  Rhoda,"  my 
mother  said.  "  Grandma  and  I  are 
going  out,  and  you  must  stay  in  the 
house.  When  we  come  back  you  may 
go  out." 

.[87] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


She  dressed  herself  very  quietly  that 
day,  all  in  dark  things,  and  she  and 
grandmother  did  not  look  joyful,  as 
they  always  did  when  they  went  out 
together. 

"  I  'd  like  to  go,  too,"  I  said,  wistfully. 

Then  Norah  coaxed  me. 

"  Ah,  stay  and  play  with  your  Norah," 
she  cried.  "  Sure  you  '11  not  be  after 
leaving  your  Norah  alone  in  this  big 
house! " 

I  always  liked  to  play  with  Norah, 
when  her  work  was  done  and  she  had 
time  to  be  sociable.  That  day  we 
played  blindman's  buff  together  —  she, 
and  I  and  the  twins.  Norah  was  always 
the  blind  man,  and  she  was  the  longest 
time  catching  us,  and  when  she  did  she 
could  never  tell  who  it  might  be.  She 
would  guess  quite  impossible  people,  — 
the  grocer's  boy,  and  the  lady  from  over 
the  way,  and  her  own  very  mother  in 
Ireland,  —  and  she  never  once,  by  any 
[88] 


THE    OLD    MAJOR 


chance,  thought  that  it  was  Rhoda  or 
little  Dick  or  Trixie. 

"  Sure,  you  're  too  big  to  be  Trixie !  " 
she  cried,  when  we  told  her  who  it 
was. 

That  day,  when  the  blind  man  was 
out  of  breath,  and  his  feet  were  sore 
from  walking  hundreds  of  miles,  I 
climbed  up  on  the  window-sill  and 
watched  the  people  going  along  the 
street.  There  were  a  great  many  of 
them,  much  more  than  usual.  Sud- 
denly there  was  the  sound  of  a  fife 
and  drum  in  the  distance,  and  a  long 
line  of  carriages  came  into  sight,  and 
one  was  filled  with  beautiful  flowers, 
and  one  was  draped  with  a  torn  old 
flag. 

"Come  quick,  Norah!"  I  cried, 
eagerly.  "It's  a  procession!" 

"  It 's  the  old  major's  funeral,"  Norah 
said,  coming  with  the  twins  in  her  arms 
to  look  over  my  shoulder. 
[89] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


I  had  known,  somehow,  that  it  was 
the  major's,  for  everything  nice  be- 
longed to  him.  I  was  so  proud  to  think 
that  my  major  should  have  all  that  big 
procession,  with  the  lovely  flowers  and 
the  music  in  front.  I  looked  for  him 
in  every  carriage,  that  I  might  wave 
as  he  went  by.  He  was  not  there,  but 
other  people  were,  —  my  mother  and 
my  grandmother,  and  the  lady  from 
over  the  way,  and  men  with  gold  braid 
on  their  coats  come  to  grace  the  major's 
procession. 

"Is  it  all  his,  Norah?"  I  asked. 

"  Sure,  dear." 

"  I  am  so  glad,"  I  cried.  "  Oh,  I  'm 
so  glad ! " 

I  clapped  my  hands  in  my  delight, 
and  was  quite  angry  with  Norah  when 
she  dragged  me,  hurriedly,  away  from 
the  window. 

That  night  my  mother  took  me  in 
her  lap,  and  told  me  that  the  old  major 
[90] 


THE    OLD    MAJOR 


had  gone  to  heaven.  I  had  heard  of 
heaven  before.  It  was  where  I  came 
from,  and  the  twins,  away  back  in  the 
early  days.  Heaven  was  a  nice  place, 
and  now,  as  the  major's  home,  it  ac- 
quired a  new  charm.  But  there  was 
one  drawback. 

"  Shan't  I  ever  see  him  again, 
mother? "  I  asked. 

"  Never  again,  Rhoda." 

"  But,' mother,  it 's  a  children's  place,"  I 
urged,  anxiously.  "And  the  major  is  old, 
quite  old.  He  won't  like  it  there,  mother." 

"  The  major  has  gone  to  heaven  to 
be  a  little  child  again,"  my  mother  said, 
with  a  sob. 

Then  she  put  a  blue  velvet  box  in  my 
hand.  Inside  there  was  the  littlest  watch 
in  the  world,  and  on  the  back  of  the 
watch  there  was  a  star  in  blue  stones. 
It  was  the  last  thing  which  the  old  major 
bought  before  he  went  to  heaven. 

[91] 


IV 
THE    FIRESIDE    GOD 

A  Christmas  Dream  that  Came  True 


IV 

THE  FIRESIDE  GOD 

A  Christmas  Dream  that  Came  True 


"  ENGLAND  is  a  long  way  off,"  grand- 
mother said,  softly.  "  Especially  at 
Christmas  time." 

She  was  not  talking  to  any  one  in 
particular,  but  just  to  herself.  She 
had  been  sitting  for  quite  awhile  by 
the  parlor  window  reading  her  Bible. 
Sometimes  her  eyes  were  fastened  on 
the  page,  and  sometimes  when  a  strange 
step  came  down  the  street,  she  would 
glance  up  hurriedly,  almost  in  an  eager 
way,  as  if  she  were  watching  for  some 
one.  Then,  when  she  saw  who  it  was, 
her  eyes  would  drop  again  on  the  book 
in  a  disappointed  fashion.  I  knew  what 
[95] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


she  would  do  next.  Very  slowly  she 
would  turn  the  pages  right  to  the  middle 
of  the  Bible,  where  a  picture  lay  be- 
tween the  leaves. 

"Isn't  that  father,  grandma?"  I 
asked,  anxiously,  leaning  against  her 
knee. 

"  No,  Rhoda,"  she  said,  in  that  de- 
cisive way  of  hers. 

I  hung  closer  over  the  picture  to 
make  real  sure. 

It  looked  so  like  father  when  he  was 
a  little  boy  that  I  thought  she  must  be 
mistaken.  Yet  somehow  it  was  differ- 
ent. This  little  boy  was  fairer.  There 
was  a  curl  of  hair  on  the  page,  a  light- 
brown  curl  with  red  glints  in  it,  and  a 
tiny  wreath  made  of  pressed  lilacs  which 
once  upon  a  time  he  had  joined  to- 
gether, flower  by  flower,  out  in  our 
front  garden.  I  could  almost  see  him 
doing  it,  while  the  wind  blew  through 
those  brown  curls. 

[96] 


THE    FIRESIDE    GOD 


"  Oh,  I  do  hope  that  he  is  n't  grown 
up!"  I  cried,  quickly. 

People  had  such  an  astonishing  way 
of  growing  up  fast.  Why,  even  Joseph 
in  his  pretty  new  coat  in  the  Bible  was 
not  a  little  boy  any  longer!  And  I  had 
always  so  longed  to  play  with  Joseph. 

Grandmother  did  not  tell  me  any- 
thing more  about  the  picture.  She  took 
it  out  of  my  hand,  and  put  it  back  on 
the  page  beside  the  curl  and  the  faded 
lilac  ring.  Then  she  closed  the  book 
tightly;  but  when  I  ran  into  the  parlor 
five  minutes  later  to  announce  a  visitor 
the  picture  was  out  again  on  her  lap. 

"  Evelyn  is  coming,  grandma ! "  I 
cried. 

The  tall  young  lady  who  followed  me 
into  the  room  was  grandmother's  great 
friend,  and,  also,  in  a  way  she  was  mine. 
I  loved  her  because  she  was  so  beauti- 
ful; but  grandmother  loved  her  because 
they  both  liked  a  man  named  Frank. 
?  [97] 


THE    CHRONICLES    or    RHODA 


He  was  engaged  to  Evelyn.  I  had 
heard  my  mother  say  so. 

"  Is  there  any  news? "  grandmother 
asked,  eagerly. 

She  had  risen  out  of  her  chair  and 
looked  startled. 

Evelyn  went  up  to  her  with  a  letter 
in  her  hand. 

"  Frank  is  quite  well,"  she  said,  "  and 
very  busy.  Would  you  like  to  see  his 
letter?  " 

Grandmother  hesitated.  She  almost 
turned  her  back  upon  Evelyn. 

"  No,"  she  answered,  slowly.  "  No. 
.When  he  writes  a  letter  to  me,  I  will 
read  it.  Not  before." 

"  Oh,  you  are  hard  on  Frank,"  Evelyn 
protested.  "  How  can  he  write  to  you? 
Did  n't  you  say  you  would  have  nothing 
more  to  do  with  him,  unless  he  gave  up 
his  profession? " 

"  Profession !  Has  an  actor  a  profes- 
sion? "  grandmother  cried.  "  This  is  the 
[98] 


THE    FIRESIDE    GOD 


first  time  I  ever  heard  it  called  by  that 
name.  I  said  he  was  to  choose  between 
his  mother  and  a  child's  mad  whim,  and 
he  made  his  choice." 

She  picked  up  the  picture  and  looked 
at  it  with  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  could  forgive  him  anything  but 
acting,"  she  said.  "  Sometimes  I  think 
I  could  even  forgive  him  that.  I  do  so 
long  to  see  him  again." 

Evelyn  slipped  her  arm  about  grand- 
mother. 

"  He  will  come  back,"  she  cried,  con- 
solingly. 

"  Never,"  grandmother  replied,  with  a 
despairing  glance  at  the  empty  street. 
"  Don't  I  know  him,  Evelyn?  Man  and 
boy?  He  is  as  stubborn  as  I  am." 

"  Would  the  little  boy  play  with  me, 
grandma,  if  he  came  back? "  I  asked, 
excitedly. 

They  both  looked  at  me,  but  Evelyn 
was  the  only  one  who  smiled. 
[99] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


"  Perhaps,"  she  said.  "  He  used  to 
be  very  fond  of  you." 

After  that  I  was  always  watching  for 
the  little  boy.  Every  morning  when  I 
got  up  I  looked  out  of  the  window  to  see 
if  he  were  not  coming  in  our  gate.  And 
the  last  thing  before  I  went  to  bed,  I 
looked  out  carefully  again.  I  thought 
that  I  should  know  him  by  his  hair,  and 
I  felt  how  lovely  it  would  be  if  he  would 
only  come  at  Christmas  time.  Christmas 
was  not  going  to  be  so  nice  that  year  as 
usual.  I  did  not  think  that  I  should  get 
anything.  There  were  lots  of  presents 
in  the  house  for  other  children,  even  my 
little  brother  and  sister,  but  somehow 
there  did  not  seem  to  be  any  for  Rhoda! 

"  Father,"  I  said,  one  morning, 
"  there 's  a  very  pretty  book  in  your 
top  drawer.  A  child's  book.  I  wonder 
whose  it  is? " 

He  was  quite  busy  reading  his  paper, 
but  he  answered  me  at  once. 
[100] 


THE    FIRESIDE    GOD 


"  That 's  for  a  little  friend  of  mine," 
he  declared.  "  It 's  a  secret." 

"Oh!     Is  she  a  good  girl,  father?" 

He  glanced  at  me  and  laughed. 

"  Sometimes  she  's  awfully  good,"  he 
answered. 

Then  it  was  not  for  me.  Nobody 
ever  seemed  to  think  that  I  was  good, 
not  even  when  I  was  trying  my  best. 
It  must  be  grand  to  be  good!  Just 
think  of  being  born  that  way,  so  that 
you  could  not  help  it,  but  went  on 
growing  better  and  better  until  you 
died!  There  was  a  little  girl  down  the 
street  like  that.  We  played  together 
on  sunny  days.  I  found  it  very  hard 
to  play  with  any  one  who  was  so 
good. 

"  And  sometimes,"  my  father  went  on, 
still  with  that  smile  in  his  eyes,  "  some- 
times she  's  so  dreadfully  bad  that  I  'm 
really  shocked! " 

"Oh!"  I  said  again. 
[101] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


I  had  seen  my  father  shocked.  When 
he  was  shocked,  he  always  laughed  very 
hard. 

"Has  it  pictures,  father?"  I  asked, 
meekly,  trying  to  turn  the  subject. 

"  No.  My  little  friend  does  n't  care 
about  pictures,"  he  answered,  indiffer- 
ently. 

Then  it  was  not  for  me.  I  was  very 
fond  of  pictures.  Everybody  knew  that. 
It  did  seem  queer  that  in  all  the  many 
packages  which  he  brought  home,  night 
after  night,  —  round  ones,  and  square 
ones,  and  even  some  with  mysterious 
humpy  corners,  —  there  should  not  be 
a  single  thing  for  Rhoda!  And  Christ- 
mas was  coming  faster  and  faster. 

Evelyn,  too,  had  all  manner  of  pretty 
presents  laid  by  for  other  little  girls, 
quite  strange  little  girls,  who  did  not 
love  her  at  all  so  far  as  I  could  see, 
but  she  never  said  a  word  about  my 
present;  not  even  one  day  when  she 
[102] 


THE    FIRESIDE    GOD 


called  me  into  her  house  and  opened  her 
parlor  door.  She  opened  it  very  softly, 
as  if  there  were  company,  and  she  put 
her  finger  on  her  lip  that  I  should  not 
speak. 

There  was  company.  Inside  the  room 
was  filled  with  dolls!  They  sat  in  rows 
on  the  sofa  and  on  the  piano,  they  lay 
in  careless  heaps  on  the  chairs  and 
tables;  blue-eyed  dolls  and  black-eyed 
dolls,  some  that  went  promptly  to  sleep 
when  you  laid  them  down,  some  in 
Japanese  dresses,  and  some  that  wore 
long  clothes  and  caps  like  sure  enough 
babies.  We  went  about  solemnly,  hand 
in  hand,  and  looked  at  them  all.  They 
stared  back  as  if  they  wanted  a  mother, 
and  one  on  the  center-table,  a  queen  of 
a  doll  with  earrings  in  her  ears,  held  out 
her  arms  to  come  to  me! 

;'  Whom  do  you  think  they  're  all 
for?"  Evelyn  asked,  gayly.  "Guess." 

I  held  her  closer  by  the  hand  and 
[103] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


gazed  about  me.  /  was  very  fond  of 
dolls.  I  had  never  had  enough.  I  be- 
lieved that  once  or  twice  I  had  men- 
tioned the  fact.  I  drew  a  long  breath. 
Just  suppose  — 

''  They  're  for  orphans,"  Evelyn  cried, 
quickly.  '  You  know  what  orphans  are, 
don't  you,  Rhoda?  They  are  poor  chil- 
dren who  have  n't  any  mothers  or  fathers 
to  buy  them  dolls !  It 's  a  very  sad  thing 
to  be  an  orphan." 

I  glanced  about  me  again.  The  queen 
was  very  beautiful. 

:<  Will  they  be  good  to  them? "  I  ques- 
tioned, wistfully. 

I  had  heard  of  people  whipping  dolls! 
And  once  a  little  boy  had  drowned  a 
doll!  His  sister's!  It  was  dreadful! 

"  Oh,  I  'm  sure  this  doll  is  going  to 
be  spoiled,"  Evelyn  answered,  with  her 
hand  on  the  queen. 

I  looked  from  her  to  the  great  doll 
with  shy  admiration.  They  both  had 
[104] 


THE    FIRESIPE    GOD 


the  same  fair  hair,  and  the  same  pink 
cheeks  and  the  same  gray  eyes.  Their 
faces  were  just  like  flowers. 

"  I  think  her  name  is  Evelyn,  too," 
I  said. 

I  had  always  thought  that  Evelyn 
liked  me,  but  that  day  I  was  sure  of 
it.  We  had  a  long  talk  in  a  big  chair 
about  all  the  things  which  I  wanted  for 
Christmas.  She  said  that  I  was  surely 
to  come  Christmas  morning  and  see  the 
orphans  get  their  dolls.  Somebody 
named  Santa  Claus  would  be  there.  I 
had  heard  of  Santa  Claus  before,  but 
only  in  a  general  sort  of  a  way.  He 
seemed  to  be  a  very  kindly  sort  of  per- 
son who  gave  away  dolls  by  the  hun- 
dred, sometimes  to  orphans,  and  some- 
times just  to  little  girls  who  needed 
them.  It  was  a  question  how  much  you 
had  to  need  them. 

At  the  very  last  Evelyn  gave  me  a 
message  to  deliver. 

[105] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


"  Rhoda,"  she  said,  earnestly,  "  tell 
grandmother  that  there  is  good  news. 
What  she  was  wishing  for  is  really 
going  to  happen!  " 

She  hugged  me  up  closer  to  her. 

"  Oh,  what  a  Christmas  this  will 
be!"  she  cried.  'We  are  all  going  to 
get  what  we  want,  all  of  us,  even 
Rhoda!" 

Afterwards  she  changed.  When  I 
went  out  of  the  door  she  drew  me  back 
and  looked  at  me  anxiously,  almost 
coldly. 

"  Rhoda,  don't  tell  grandmother  any- 
thing," she  said.  "  It  might  be  a  mis- 
take. I  would  n't  have  her  disappointed 
for  the  world! " 

I  did  not  want  grandmother  to  be 
disappointed,  but  still  when  I  went  back 
into  our  house  and  saw  her  sitting  by 
the  window,  I  felt  that  I  should  like 
to  tell  her  some  good  news.  Just  that 
once.  She  looked  so  frail  and  old,  and 
[106] 


THE    FIRESIDE    GOD 


I  had  never  noticed  before  how  white 
her  hair  was. 

My  mother  was  very  tender  with 
grandmother.  Every  morning  she  would 
send  her  three  children,  the  twins  and 
me,  to  kiss  her,  and  when  my  father 
came  home  at  night  she  would  send  him 
to  lean  on  the  back  of  the  big  chair, 
and  look  down  at  the  closed  Bible. 
Grandmother  never  took  the  picture 
out  when  my  father  was  there.  She 
never  even  listened  to  the  people  pass- 
ing by  outside.  She  would  talk  to  him 
about  other  things  in  which  neither  of 
them  took  much  interest,  until  he  would 
go  away,  half  sadly,  half  angrily. 

"  She  is  the  most  absurd  woman  who 
ever  lived,"  he  told  my  mother.  "  Here 
is  Frank  winning  laurels  by  the  dozen, 
and,  on  account  of  her  stupid  prejudice, 
she  won't  listen  to  his  name.  Does  she 
expect  to  keep  this  thing  up  forever? " 

"  She  is  thinking  of  him  all  the  time," 
[107] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


my  mother  said,  quietly.  "  She  loves 
him." 

"I  know  she  loves  him!"  my  father 
cried.  "  She  loves  him  better  than  she 
does  me.  I  was  always  the  one  who 
did  n't  count !  Always." 

My  mother  laid  her  hand  upon  his 
arm  and  stopped  him. 

"  Hush,  Robert,"  she  said. 

Her  eyes  wandered  over  me  sitting 
on  my  stool  by  the  fireplace,  and  passed 
to  little  brother  Dick  playing  with  his 
blocks. 

:<  Who  can  judge  a  mother's  heart?  " 
she  questioned,  softly,  and  then  turned 
upon  him  with  a  demand  that  was  al- 
most wrathful.  "  Have  you  nothing  to 
be  thankful  for,"  she  cried,  "  that  you 
grudge  him  a  thought  at  Christmas 
time!" 

My  mother  always  took  grandmother's 
part.  She  seemed  to  understand  grand- 
mother better  than  my  father  did.  Once 
[108] 


THE    FIRESIDE    GOD 


I  heard  her  say  that  the  curl  in  the  Bible 
was  like  one  of  little  Dick's.  She  laid 
it  against  his  soft  hair,  and  it  matched, 
color  and  curl,  as  if  it  had  been  cut 
from  his  head.  After  that  she  was  even 
kinder  to  grandmother  than  before. 

Norah  out  in  the  kitchen  was  the 
happiest  person  in  the  house.  Every 
night  she  wrote  home  to  Ireland,  and 
sometimes  she  laughed  and  sometimes 
she  cried.  I  liked  to  hear  about  Ire- 
land. I  would  climb  upon  the  kitchen 
table  and  watch  her  write,  and  listen 
when  she  read  bits  of  her  letters  to  me. 
I  knew  all  about  Norah's  people,  and 
could  call  her  brothers  and  sisters,  and 
even  her  cousins,  by  name.  She  was 
sending  money  in  her  letter  to  buy  her 
mother  a  new  green  plaid  shawl  for 
Christmas.  She  was,  also,  going  to  buy 
the  priest  a  pig.  Norah  was  worried 
about  the  priest.  He  gave  away  every- 
thing that  he  had  to  the  poor  of  the 
[109] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


parish,  and  went  hungry  all  the  time. 
After  much  thought  she  had  decided 
on  the  present  of  a  pig,  as  being  a 
thing  which  the  priest  might  keep  for 
himself. 

"  Though  they  're  that  owdacious, 
Rhoda,"  she  cried,  in  high  wrath,  "  that 
I  'm  thinking  they  '11  take  the  pig,  too!  " 

:'  What  would  they  do  with  the  pig, 
Norah?"  I  asked,  anxiously. 

"Sure,  they  might  eat  it!"  she  an- 
swered, with  a  dark  frown. 

"  Norah,  what  if  you  were  to  put  a 
blue  ribbon  about  its  neck? "  I  sug- 
gested. 

She  went  into  fits  of  laughter  and 
hugged  me. 

"  To  think  that  you  Ve  niver  even 
seen  a  pig!"  she  cried.  "To  think  of 
it  dressed  up!  The  innocent!" 

It  was  on  that  same  night  that  with 
a  great  parade  of  secrecy  she  showed 
me  something  hidden  in  the  knife  tray. 
[  110  ] 


THE    FIRESIDE    GOD 


It  was  a  doll's  hat  made  of  blue  velvet, 
and  trimmed  with  lovely  white  feathers, 
such  as  came  out  of  the  pillows  when 
Norah  thumped  them  in  the  morning. 
Right  in  front  there  was  a  big  brass  pin 
that  shone  like  gold.  Norah  watched 
me  while  I  examined  the  hat,  breath- 
lessly. She  seemed  much  pleased  with 
my  admiration,  and  turned  it  around 
and  around  on  one  of  her  big  fingers 
that  I  might  decide  on  the  prettiest 
side,  which  was,  of  course,  the  one  with 
the  brass  pin. 

"But  whom  is  it  for,  Norah?"  I 
asked. 

"  It 's  for  a  small  frind  of  mine,"  she 
explained,  with  an  air  of  deep  mystery. 

It  was  very  strange.  The  dolls  and 
the  picture-book,  even  the  hat,  were  all 
for  somebody's  little  friend,  never  for 
me. 

"  I  wonder  what  I  '11  get? "  I  said, 
weakly. 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


;'  Why  don't  you  ask  Santa  Claus, 
dear? "  Norah  inquired. 

I  looked  at  her  quickly.  That  was 
Evelyn's  friend. 

"Who  is  he,  Norah?"  I  questioned. 

She  threw  up  her  arms  in  the  air. 

"  And  have  I  niver  told  you  about 
him!  "  she  cried.  "  The  quare  ould  chap 
that  lives  up  in  the  chimney!" 

"Up  in  the  chimney,  Norah!  Isn't 
he  hot? "  I  demanded,  in  astonishment. 

"  Faith,  there 's  no  fire  could  warm 
him,"  Norah  answered,  lowering  her 
voice  mysteriously. 

Then  her  finger  went  up  in  apparent 
alarm. 

"Hush!  He's  listening!  He  wants 
to  know  which  are  the  good  byes  and 
gurrls.  When  Christmas  morning  comes 
the  good  ones  will  get  prisents.  For 
he  owns  all  the  prisents  in  the  world! 
And  the  bad  ones  will  get  nought,  bar- 
ring switches! " 

[112] 


THE    FIRESIDE    GOD 


I  crept  a  little  closer  to  Norah,  and 
took  a  firm  hold  on  her  apron.  It  was 
very  sudden  news.  Had  I  always  been 
good? 

"  But  the  good  childer,"  Norah  went 
on,  with  a  reassuring  smile,  "  and  you 
are  good,  Rhoda,  have  only  to  ask  for 
whativer  they  want  at  the  parlor  fire- 
place!" 

I  could  not  keep  away  from  the  fire- 
place after  that.  Every  time  that  I 
went  into  the  parlor  I  peeped  up  the 
black  bricks,  and  though  I  never  saw 
anything  but  the  blue  sky  far,  far  above, 
I  felt  quite  sure  that  he  was  there.  I 
made  little  scenes  in  my  mind  of  the 
things  which  I  should  say  to  him,  and 
the  things  which  he  would  say  to  me, 
after  he  became  convinced  of  my  good- 
ness. In  the  meanwhile  I  was  good, 
oh,  so  good!  and  best  of  all  in  the 
parlor.  Later,  I  meant  to  ask  for  the 
queen  doll,  and  the  pretty  book,  and 
8  [  113  ] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


the  little  hat  trimmed  with  the  white 
feathers  and  the  beautiful  brass  pin. 
Even  if  he  could  not  give  me  just  those 
ones,  because  they  were  promised,  he 
might  give  me  others.  I  felt  that  he 
could  manage  it  in  some  way,  if  he  were 
pleased  with  me.  It  was  nice  to  know 
that  he  was  partial  to  good  girls. 

Once  I  went  so  far  as  to  speak  his 
name. 

"Mr.  Santa  Claus!"  I  called,  po- 
litely, for  it  was  best  to  be  polite.  "  Oh, 
please,  Mr.  Santa  Claus ! " 

A  big  piece  of  soot  dropped  down 
over  the  burning  wood  right  at  my 
feet.  That  was  his  way  of  showing  that 
he  heard!  Then  I  was  frightened,  and 
would  have  run  away  but  for  a  sudden 
sound.  Somebody  was  crying!  It  was 
grandmother  up  in  the  corner  of  the 
sofa  with  the  Bible  on  her  knees.  She 
did  not  see  me  at  all.  She  did  not 
know  that  I  was  there.  I  put  my  arms 
[114] 


THE    FIRESIDE    GOD 


around  her  neck,  and  she  looked  up  and 
talked  to  me  quite  as  if  I  were  a  grown 
person. 

"I  want  him  so  badly,  Rhoda!"  she 
said. 

"Who  is  it,  grandma?"  I  whispered. 

"My  little  boy,  Rhoda.  He  went 
away  and  he  never  came  back  again.  I 
was  not  patient  enough  with  him.  Al- 
ways be  patient,  my  dear.'* 

"  Don't  you  cry,  grandma,"  I  said. 
"  I  '11  get  him  back,  dear  grandma,  if 
you  won't  cry." 

She  looked  at  me  for  a  moment  as 
if  she  almost  believed  me.  I  nodded 
confidently  at  her.  I  knew.  There  was 
a  way,  but  only  little  Rhoda  had  thought 
of  it  as  yet.  If  Norah  had  only  told 
me  sooner  about  Santa  Claus! 

After   she   had   dried   her   eyes,    and 

kissed  me,  and  gone  to  her  room,  I  put 

my  plan  into  execution.     I  told  Santa 

Claus  all  about  it  up  the  black  bricks. 

[115] 


THE    CHRONICLES    or    RHODA 


He  did  not  answer,  but  the  soot  fell 
softly,  so  I  knew  that  he  heard  and 
would  remember.  It  was  no  longer  a 
question  of  dolls  or  books  or  even 
hats.  I  felt  that  the  one  thing  which 
I  wanted  most  in  the  world  was  just 
for  grandmother's  little  boy  to  come 
home.  , 

I  did  not  hang  up  my  stocking  on 
Christmas  eve.  The  twins  hung  up 
theirs,  —  two  little  podgy  stockings  side 
by  side  at  the  mantel-piece.  Even  quite 
a  small  stocking  will  hold  candy,  and  I 
have  known  times  when  the  very  nicest 
present  of  all  would  be  away  down  at 
the  toe.  My  little  Susan  Sunshine,  my 
littlest  doll,  came  in  the  toe.  I  found 
her  after  I  thought  everything  was  out. 
I  wondered  whether  Dick  or  Trixie 
would  find  a  little  Susan  Sunshine. 

:<  Why  don't  sister  hang  up  her  stock- 
ing? "  Dick  asked,  anxiously. 

"Is  she  bad?"  Trixie  inquired. 
[116] 


THE    FIRESIDE    GOD 


"  I  'm  not  bad,"  I  declared,  hastily, 
from  my  bed  in  the  next  room. 

"  Why  don't  you  hang  up  your  stock- 
ing, dear? "  mother  questioned. 

"  I  don't  want  anything,"  I  answered, 
miserably. 

Afterwards  I  heard  her  talking  to  my 
father. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of 
Rhoda,"  I  heard  her  say.  "  She  won't 
hang  up  her  stocking.  I  hope  that  she 
is  not  going  to  be  sick.  It  would  be 
dreadful  to  have  one  of  the  children 
sick  at  Christmas  time.  Her  head  is 
quite  hot." 

I  felt  my  head.     It  was  hot. 

I  lay  awake  for  a  long  time  thinking 
of  things.  I  considered  the  twins  and 
their  stockings,  and  grandmother's  de- 
light in  the  morning.  Somehow  I  had 
to  think  a  great  deal  about  grand- 
mother in  order  to  keep  myself  from 
crying.  Grandmother  did  not  know 
[117] 


THE    CHRONICLES   OF    RHODA 


what  I  was  doing  for  her.  The  little 
boy  must  be  getting  ready  to  come 
right  now.  Off  in  the  distance  I  could 
hear  sleigh-bells,  perhaps  his  sleigh-bells, 
now  near,  now  far  away,  and  in  the 
pauses  between  the  soft  throb  of  the 
organ  over  in  the  church,  and  a  voice 
singing  a  hymn,  the  one  that  I  knew 
about  angels  and  the  manger  with  the 
Child.  It  was  very  beautiful.  I  sighed 
a  little,  sleepily.  After  all  I  was 
happy. 

Then  in  a  moment  it  was  day,  bright 
day,  and  in  the  next  room  there  was  a 
confused  murmur  of  voices  and  a  hur- 
ried scamper  of  feet.  Dick  shouted  ex- 
citedly. Somebody  beat  a  drum  with  a 
low  rumble  like  soldiers,  not  as  a  little 
boy  would  beat  a  drum,  but  as  my  father 
might  if  he  were  teaching  a  little  boy. 
Somebody  marched  pitapat  about  the 
room,  and  somebody  danced  by  the  fire- 
place. 

[118] 


THE    FIRESIDE    GOD 


"  Go  back  to  your  cribs,"  my  mother 
cried,  uneasily.  "  You  '11  get  your  death 
of  cold!" 

On  the  chair  by  the  side  of  my  bed 
there  was  a  stocking,  with  queer  knobby 
places,  which  meant  oranges,  and  square 
places,  which  meant  candy.  Right  on 
top  there  was  a  blue  velvet  hat  trimmed 
with  white  feathers,  and  against  the 
stocking  there  leant  a  picture-book.  I 
looked  at  them  incredulously.  Santa 
Claus  had  not  understood!  Or  else  he 
had  thought  that  I  loved  my  presents 
better  than  I  did  my  grandmother!  I 
kissed  the  hat  and  the  picture-book 
twice,  and  then  I  put  them  sternly  back 
on  the  chair.  I  knew  what  I  should 
do.  Santa  Claus  would  find  that  I 
meant  what  I  said. 

"  Did  you  like  the  picture-book, 
Rhoda? "  my  father  inquired  at  the 
breakfast  table. 

'  Yes,"  I  answered,  hurriedly. 
[119] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


Norah  smiled  at  me  from  the  shelter 
of  the  kitchen  door. 

"  How  did  my  little  frind  like  the 
hat? "  she  asked,  in  a  stage  whisper. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  there  were  some 
subjects  which  would  not  bear  talking 
about. 

They  felt  my  head  a  great  many 
times  that  morning,  and  even  looked  at 
my  tongue. 

"  She  acts  so  unlike  herself,"  my 
mother  said,  anxiously.  '  You  don't 
feel  sick  anywhere,  do  you,  Rhoda? " 

"  No,"  I  replied,  huskily. 

Grandmother  evinced  a  sudden  inter- 
est. 

"  I  would  n't  let  her  go  to  Evelyn's," 
she  said. 

"  But  I  want  to  go!"  I  cried,  piteously. 

;<  There,  there,"  my  father  said,  in  a 
soothing  way.  "Of  course  you  may 
go." 

"  Only  you  must  take  an  iron  pill 
[120] 


THE    FIRESIDE    GOD 


first,"  my  mother  pleaded.  "  Just  to 
please  mother." 

She  did  the  pill  up  very  neatly  in  a 
raisin,  so  that  it  did  not  look  at  all  like 
a  pill.  My  mother  could  make  the  most 
horrible  things  look  nice, — such  as  cough 
syrup,  with  little  specks  of  jelly  float- 
ing on  it  like  a  pudding.  Afterwards 
you  might  know  by  the  taste  that  there 
had  been  something  wrong,  but  you  could 
never  tell  beforehand;  not  even  though 
you  might  wonder  at  dessert  being  kindly 
offered  for  breakfast. 

I  took  my  pill  meekly,  and  drank  a 
glass  of  milk  to  please  my  father.  Then 
after  much  consultation  they  put  on  my 
cloak,  and  let  me  go.  I  had  the  picture- 
book  and  the  hat  hidden  under  my  arm 
as  I  went  out  the  door,  but  nobody 
noticed. 

Evelyn's  house  was  farther  down  the 
street,  not  quite  out  of  sight  from  our 
front  gate,  but  still  at  a  little  distance. 
[121] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


There  were  orphans  going  in  when  I 
came  up,  —  orphans  in  decorous  rows 
of  twos;  each  little  girl  with  a  white 
apron  hanging  down  under  her  cloak. 
They  went  in  very  quietly,  not  at  all 
as  if  they  were  excited  at  the  pros- 
pect. I  felt  that  they  could  not 
know  what  was  inside.  I  watched 
to  see  them  dance  when  they  passed 
the  parlor  door,  but  they  only  stared 
stolidly. 

"A  merry  Christmas  to  all  of  you," 
a  sonorous  voice  cried  within. 

I  peeped  in  cautiously.  There  he  was ! 
That  was  Santa  Claus.  He  stood  by 
a  beautiful  tree  at  the  top  of  the  room. 
He  had  on  a  white  fur  coat,  and  there 
was  a  shaggy  cap  on  his  head.  He 
smiled  at  us.  It  almost  seemed  that  he 
smiled  at  me,  little  Rhoda  Harcourt,  as 
if  he  remembered  the  chimney!  His 
arms  were  full  of  dolls,  but  I  knew  at 
first  glance  that  I  could  never  really 
[122] 


THE    FIRESIDE    GOD 


like  him.  There  was  something  about 
his  face  that  made  it  impossible. 

"  These  dolls  are  only  for  good  girls," 
he  said  again,  in  a  loud  voice  that  had 
a  muffled  sound. 

I  slipped  in  closer.  The  orphans 
stared  back  at  him  unconcernedly.  They 
were  sure  that  they  were  good.  One, 
a  very  sleepy  orphan,  put  her  head  on 
her  chair,  and  went  fast  to  sleep  in  the 
most  impolite  way. 

"  Here,  wake  up ! "  the  next  orphan 
said,  and  slapped  her. 

She  woke  up  and  slapped  her  neigh- 
bor back,  and  was  going  to  sleep  again 
when  Santa  Claus  called  her  name.  It 
was  Betsy.  He  gave  Betsy  the  first  doll. 
He  was  evidently  quite  satisfied  with  her 
behavior.  I  was  much  surprised. 

The  dolls  went  quickly  after  that,  all 

except  the  queen.     She  sat  up  high  on 

the  tree,  and  her  eyes  had  a  frightened 

look,  as  though  she  did  not  like  orphans. 

[123] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


Once  Santa  Claus  took  her  down,  but 
Evelyn  put  her  back  again. 

"  Not  that  one,  Frank,"  I  heard  her 
cry. 

He  turned  and  whispered  something 
to  her  behind  the  tree.  The  branches 
were  very  thick,  but  for  a  moment  I 
almost  thought  that  his  face  grew  dif- 
ferent, younger  and  fairer,  and  with  a 
gleam  of  triumphant  laughter  about  it 
quite  unlike  the  Santa  Claus  that  he  had 
been  before.  Then  he  changed  again, 
and  came  out,  with  his  long  beard  flow- 
ing and  his  fierce  white  eyebrows  frown- 
ing, to  give  away  more  dolls. 

At  the  very  end  of  all  he  picked  up 
the  queen,  and  called  gruffly,  "  Rhoda!  " 

I  peered  out  of  my  corner  at  the 
orphans.  I  could  not  see  any  orphan 
Rhoda  among  them.  Just  suppose  that 
Santa  Claus  should  mean  me!  He  did 
mean  me!  He  beckoned  with  what  he 
thought  was  a  friendly  look. 
[124] 


THE    FIRESIDE    GOD 


"Rhoda,"  Evelyn  cried.  ;'  Why, 
you're  not  afraid,  are  you,  dear?" 

"  No,"  I  answered,  hastily. 

I  do  not  think  that  she  quite  believed 
me,  for  she  took  me  by  the  hand  and 
led  me  up  to  where  Santa  Glaus  stood 
waiting  with  the  queen  in  his  arms.  It 
was  evident  that  he  had  forgotten  every- 
thing, everything  that  I  had  ever  told 
him. 

;<  This  is  for  you,"  he  said  in  a  genial 
way,  holding  out  the  doll. 

The  queen  looked  at  me  with  de- 
lighted eyes,  the  dear  queen!  but  I 
could  not  take  her.  I  gave  him  the  hat 
and  the  picture-book  in  a  hurry. 

"  I  don't  want  these,"  I  said.  "  You 
know  what  I  want.  I  told  you  up  the 
chimney.  And  you  promised  to  bring 
him  to  me.  You  know  that  you  did!" 

He  seemed  a  little  astonished  for  a 
moment,  and  then  he  laughed. 

"Did  I?"  he  questioned.  "What 
[125] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


chimney  was  that?     You  see  I  go  up 
so  many  that  sometimes  I  forget." 

"  What  did  you  want,  Rhoda? "  Eve- 
lyn asked  in  surprise,  putting  her  arms 
around  me.  "  Tell  Evelyn." 

"  I  want  grandmother's  little  boy  to 
come  home,"  I  answered,  almost  cry- 
ing. "  The  little  boy  who  made  the 
lilac  ring.  All  day  long  she  watches 
for  him.  I  don't  like  to  see  poor  grand- 
mother cry! " 

There  were  other  things  which  I  might 
have  said,  but  Evelyn  stopped  me  with 
a  backward  glance  at  the  rows  of  or- 
phans agog  on  their  chairs,  and  a  lady 
or  two  who  had  come  with  them  watch- 
ing in  the  background.  Even  Santa 
Claus  was  startled. 

"  A  touch  of  tragedy,"  he  said.  "  Who 
is  this  child? " 

"  Can't  you  guess? "  Evelyn  whis- 
pered. "  What  was  I  telling  you  just 
now!" 

[126] 


THE    FIRESIDE    GOD 


He  looked  down  at  me  with  sudden 
enlightenment. 

"  Rhoda!"  he  cried,  uncertainly.  "It's 
not  our  Rhoda?  She  was  a  baby." 

"  But  babies  grow  in  five  years," 
Evelyn  replied,  in  a  laughing  tone. 

He  stooped  lower  and  drew  me  to 
him. 

"  Whatever  I  promised  I  will  do,"  he 
said,  emphatically.  "  If  you  wanted  the 
whole  world  I  would  give  it  to  you 
to-day!" 

He  threw  off  the  long  yellow  cloak 
that  was  wrapped  about  him  and  did 
something  to  his  face.  In  a  moment  he 
was  just  a  man  like  other  men,  and 
had  me  upon  his  shoulder.  Somehow  it 
seemed  to  me  that  I  had  been  on  his 
shoulder  before  when  the  floor  was  far- 
ther away. 

"  Almost  too  big  for  the  old  perch," 
he   said,    with    a   laugh   that   was   half 
merry  and  half  tremulous. 
[127] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


"Oh,  don't  forget  her  doll!"  Evelyn 
cried. 

She  came  a  little  closer  to  him  so  that 
she  could  whisper. 

"  I  honor  you  for  this,"  she  said, 
ardently. 

Then  she  put  the  queen  on  his  other 
arm,  and  gave  me  the  hat  and  picture- 
book  to  carry.  The  orphans  laughed  a 
little,  but  Santa  Glaus  did  not  mind. 
He  strode  out  into  the  sunshine  with 
his  heavy  load,  and  started  up  the  block. 
The  bells  were  ringing  for  service  as  we 
went  along,  and  the  street  was  filled 
with  people,  but  I  was  the  only  little 
girl  in  the  whole  town  whom  Santa 
Claus  took  home.  And  at  our  parlor 
window  grandmother  was  looking  out. 


[128] 


V 

THE   HOTTENTOT 


V 
THE  HOTTENTOT 


THERE  had  been  a  family  council  in 
which  my  relatives  had  all  sat  around, 
gravely,  and  talked  about  me  and  my 
conduct.  It  was  a  painful  affair.  They 
had  mentioned  every  bad  thing  which  I 
had  done  in  the  course  of  a  whole  week, 
some  of  which  I  had  not  thought  they 
knew  about,  and  then  in  the  middle  of 
it  all  grandmother  Harcourt  had  made 
an  announcement. 

"  Rhoda's  behavior  grows  worse  and 
worse,"  she  had  advanced,  severely. 
"  And  as  for  her  manners,  she  's  a  regu- 
lar Hottentot!" 

"  Hottentot,  eh? "  granddad  Lawrence 
repeated,  whimsically. 
[131] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


He  had  me  upon  his  knee,  and  as  he 
spoke  he  turned  my  face  toward  his, 
and  regarded  it  with  much  apparent  in- 
terest. I  gazed  back  at  him  wistfully. 
He  was  company,  and  it  was  very  hard 
that  company  should  hear  me  called  a 
Hottentot.  I  was  sure  that  I  did  not 
look  like  that  dreadful  name  which  had 
suddenly  sprung  upon  grandmother's 
lips.  It  had  such  an  awful  sound! 

"  She  's  no  worse  than  other  children," 
my  mother  urged,  in  defence. 

She  might  blame  me  herself,  but  when 
grandmother  Harcourt  looked  over  her 
spectacles  and  invented  names  my  mother 
was  sure  to  grow  angry. 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  I  Ve  heard  about 
Hottentots  before,"  granddad  Lawrence 
went  on,  nodding  his  head.  '  They  're 
very  fond  of  candy,  Hottentots  are,  and 
they  like  their  own  way.  Yes,  they  like 
their  own  way." 

"  Not  any  more  than  other  children," 
[132] 


THE    HOTTENTOT 


my  mother  said  again.  "  Rhoda  gets 
into  mischief  solely  because  she  has 
nothing  to  do." 

"  Why  don't  you  send  her  to  school?  " 
granddad  Lawrence  asked.  "  She  is 
seven  years  old." 

"  Oh,  I  could  n't  send  her  to  school!  " 
my  mother  cried,  anxiously. 

"  No,  not  yet,"  grandmother  pro- 
tested, in  her  turn. 

It  was  the  one  subject  upon  which 
they  agreed. 

"  Well,  let  her  take  lessons  in  some- 
thing, then.  There  's  the  piano  stand- 
ing untouched.  I  Ve  heard  of  Hotten- 
tots who  had  a  very  good  ear  for  music.'* 

He  pinched  my  ear  as  he  spoke,  and 
puffed  out  his  cheeks  in  a  funny  way, 
as  he  always  did  when  he  wanted  to 
laugh.  He  had  very  little  hair  on  his 
head,  and  a  round,  pink  face  like  a 
baby's,  and  a  pair  of  wicked  blue  eyes 
that  saw  everything,  both  before  and 
[133] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


behind  him.  I  had  never  heard  of 
granddad  Lawrence  being  cross.  He 
was  good  to  everybody,  from  the  little 
newsboy  who  ran  after  him  every  morn- 
ing in  the  street  to  the  stray  dogs  which 
selected  him  for  a  master  on  account  of 
his  smile.  Most  of  all  he  was  good  to 
us,  his  grandchildren,  and  hardly  a  day 
passed  by  that  granddad  Lawrence  did 
not  come  walking  in  to  hear  the  news. 
There  were  no  children  at  his  own  house, 
for  Auntie  May  was  growing  into  a 
young  lady,  and  granddad  Lawrence 
liked  children,  being  a  child  himself  at 
heart,  with  all  a  child's  love  of  mischief. 
But  to  the  friends  who  trusted  in  him, 
he  was  the  soul  of  loyalty,  in  thought 
as  well  as  in  word. 

When  he  went  home  I  walked  out  to 
the  hall  door  with  him,  as  I  always  did, 
and  then  we  had  what  he  called  a  mer- 
cantile transaction.  He  bent  down  low, 
and  patted  his  pocket. 
[134] 


THE    HOTTENTOT 


"  Don't  you  want  to  draw  on  the 
bank? "  he  asked,  invitingly. 

I  ran  my  hand  far  into  the  depths 
of  that  jingling  pocket.  I  could  have 
whatever  I  liked,  but  the  little  brass 
pennies  were  the  prettiest,  and  the  cute 
little  silver  ten-cent  pieces,  which  seemed 
especially  made  for  children. 

"  Draw  again,"  he  said,  generously. 
"  Now  give  the  cashier  a  kiss." 

I  did  not  kiss  him  for  pennies.  I 
kissed  him  for  pure  love. 

"  Come  again,  dear  granddad,"  I  said, 
standing  at  the  door  to  peep  after  him. 
"  Come  again  to-morrow." 

He  waved  his  hand  to  me. 

"  Good-bye,  Hottentot,"  he  called, 
mischievously. 

"  Good-bye,"  I  answered,  in  rather  a 
plaintive  voice. 

I  did  not  think  that  I  liked  my  new 
name. 

That  was  the  first  occasion  on  which 
[135] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


I  heard  of  my  music  lessons,  but  not  the 
last.  My  mother  seemed  to  take  won- 
derfully to  the  idea.  She  was  always 
discussing  the  things  that  she  meant  us 
to  learn,  but  up  to  then  we  had  been 
too  small  for  any  of  her  plans  to  be  of 
much  importance.  To  take  music  les- 
sons was  a  very  simple  matter.  It  could 
not  be  considered  work,  but  play  on  a 
larger  scale;  and  after  I  had  slipped 
into  the  parlor,  and  touched  the  piano 
keys  with  a  timorous  finger,  I  knew  that 
I  should  like  it.  The  keys  were  voices. 
When  grown-up  people  touched  them, 
they  sang  together  beautifully.  There 
was  one  which  was  a  fairy  queen,  and 
one  which  was  a  prince,  and  one  away 
down  in  the  lower  bass  made  me  tremble 
when  it  talked.  That  was  an  ogre.  I 
thought  that  he  might  eat  little  children. 
I  ran  out  of  the  parlor  in  a  hurry  for 
fear  that  he  should  catch  me.  Some- 
thing pattered  up  the  stairs  behind  me, 
[136] 


THE    HOTTENTOT 


and  chased  me  along  the  hall,  but  in  my 
mother's  room  not  even  an  ogre  would 
dare  to  come. 

"  She  loves  music! "  my  mother  cried. 
"  She  is  always  hanging  around  the 
piano." 

Grandmother  looked  at  me  curiously. 

:<  There  has  never  been  a  musician  in 
our  family,"  she  remarked,  in  a  dubious 
way. 

"  I  played  before  I  was  married,"  my 
mother  answered.  "  There  does  n't  seem 
to  be  any  time  for  it  now." 

She  sighed  a  little  as  she  spoke. 

Her  lap  was  full  of  pretty  new  cloth 
which  she  was  making  into  dresses,  and 
one  of  the  twins  was  riding  on  the 
rockers  of  her  chair,  and  one  was  whis- 
tling, shrilly.  My  mother  rocked  slowly 
that  there  might  not  be  an  accident. 
Most  people  would  have  thought  that 
she  was  only  a  mother,  but  at  that  pre- 
cise moment  she  was,  also,  an  express 
[137] 


THE    CHRONICLES    or    RHODA 


train  coming  into  a  station,  and  I  was 
a  passenger  waiting  to  get  aboard. 

"  I  think  I  '11  get  Madame  Tomaso  to 
give  Rhoda  lessons,"  she  said.  ;'  We 
might  as  well  have  the  best  teacher  in 
town.  Dad  had  the  best  for  me  when 
I  was  a  child.  It  is  the  first  step  which 
always  counts." 

The  whistle  sounded  again,  and  two 
passengers  climbed  into  the  rocker  be- 
hind my  mother's  back.  We  were  a 
very  tight  fit  for  the  chair.  She  sat  a 
little  forward  in  a  meek  way,  so  as  to 
make  room  for  our  toes,  and  rocked 
more  slowly.  The  train  was  going  up- 
hill carrying  a  heavy  load. 

When  she  was  consulted  on  the  sub- 
ject, Madame  Tomaso  proved  to  be  very 
glad  to  give  me  lessons.  For  some  rea- 
son or  other  it  had  been  a  poor  season 
for  her,  either  because  there  were  only 
a  few  little  girls  musically  inclined  in 
the  town,  or  because,  which  seems  more 
[138] 


THE    HOTTENTOT 


probable,  she  had  a  name  for  severity. 
She  appeared  very  amiable,  however, 
the  first  morning  that  she  entered  our 
house.  She  drew  me  to  her,  with  quite 
a  motherly  hand,  when  I  came  bash- 
fully into  the  parlor  to  meet  her. 

"So  this  is  the  small  Miss,"  she  said, 
in  a  terrifying  voice  like  the  ogre's. 
"And  she  loves  the  music?  It  is  well." 

She  shook  hands  with  me  very  hard. 
She  had  on  a  dress  trimmed  with  bits 
of  black  glass,  —  I  always  hated  jet 
afterwards,  —  and  a  red  silk  collar  which 
exactly  matched  the  hearty  red  in  her 
cheeks.  Her  hair  was  black,  and  her 
eyes  were  black.  I  did  not  quite  like 
the  way  that  she  looked  at  me.  I  won- 
dered if  she  ate  little  children. 

"  She  is  so  bright,"  my  mother  de- 
clared, fondly,  pushing  the  hair  back 
from  my  forehead.  "  Stand  up  straight, 
Rhoda.  You  will  find  that  she  learns 
very  quickly,  Madame  Tomaso." 
[139] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


"So?"  the  ogress  answered,  in  an 
absent  manner. 

She  was  looking  at  the  piano-stool 
and  at  me.  She  was  evidently  wild  to 
begin,  and  had  not  much  time  to  spare 
for  motherly  confidences. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  she  might  fall  off 
the  stool,"  my  mother  said,  hurriedly. 
"  Could  n't  you  use  a  chair,  Madame 
Tomaso?  Though  the  chairs  are  rather 
low  for  such  a  little  girl." 

They  made  a  chair  higher  with  a  big 
book  and  a  sofa  pillow,  and  set  me  on 
top  in  front  of  the  fascinating  white 
keys.  The  twins  were  peeping  in  the 
door.  I  looked  back  at  them  grandly. 
I  felt  very  old  and  important.  It 
seemed  almost  impossible  that  only  that 
morning  we  had  been  playing  express 
trains  together,  like  children!  Still, 
there  was  something  about  it  which 
frightened  me,  notwithstanding  my 
pride. 

[140] 


THE    HOTTENTOT 


"  Go  away!  "  I  whispered,  warningly, 
to  the  figures  at  the  door. 

They  went  quickly  in  evident  alarm. 
Even  Dick  did  not  stop  for  a  second 
look. 

"Will  she  hurt  sister?"  Trixie  asked, 
in  a  high  voice,  as  they  climbed  up-stairs. 

Dick  peered  between  the  banisters. 

"  If  she  does,  I  '11  shoot  her,"  he  de- 
clared, stoutly. 

I  was  glad  to  see  them  escape,  but  I 
did  not  like  it  quite  so  well  when  my 
mother  followed  them,  and  the  door  was 
tightly  closed.  I  had  such  a  trapped 
feeling.  And  the  pillow  was  so  high 
that  I  could  not  get  down  without  help. 
Anything  might  happen!  Madame  To- 
maso  yawned  a  little  as  she  settled  down 
by  my  side,  but  she  was  still  kind.  She 
put  a  paper  in  front  of  me  which  was 
covered  with  black  scratches. 

"Which  is  'a'?"  she  asked,  sociably, 
pointing  to  a  row  of  things. 
[141] 


THE    CHRONICLES    or    RHODA 


'  A '  was  an  Archer  who  shot  at  a 
Frog,"  I  recited,  in  a  timid  whisper. 

The  twins  and  I  had  learned  that  out 
of  a  pink  book  with  blue  edges.  The 
archer  was  dressed  in  red,  and  the 
frog  was  green  with  yellow  trimmings. 
I  could,  also,  say  the  catechism  from 
cover  to  cover,  if  she  would  like  to 
hear  that,  and  Who  Killed  Cock  Robin. 
I  had  never  supposed  that  anybody 
but  my  mother  cared  for  such  things. 
She  loved  to  have  us  say  them  to 
her. 

"And  'b'?"  Madame  Tomaso  in- 
quired, staring. 

"  '  B  '  was  a  Butcher  who  had  a  big 
Dog,"  I  went  on,  with  growing  con- 
fidence. 

I  did  not  feel  nearly  so  frightened 
now.  She  was  rather  nice.  If  I  were 
very  good,  maybe  she  would  not  eat  me 
after  all. 

"Don't  you  know  your  letters?"  she 
[142] 


THE    HOTTENTOT 


demanded,  in  astonishment.  "  Don't 
you  go  to  school?" 

"  No,"  I  answered,  sadly.  "  I  am  not 
strong." 

"Ah!    Bah !"  she  cried,  in  a  rude  way. 

I  was  sure,  perfectly  sure,  that  even 
a  Hottentot  would  never  have  said  that. 

Madame  Tomaso  taught  me  my  let- 
ters that  morning,  at  least  the  first 
seven  of  them,  which  seemed  particu- 
larly needed  in  music.  She  called  for 
a  bottle  of  ink,  and  wrote  their  names 
on  the  white  keys.  She  was  very  pa- 
tient with  me,  as  I  afterwards  found 
out  when  I  was  no  longer  a  new  pupil 
to  he  coaxed  along  the  thorny  path. 
She  put  each  finger  where  it  belonged, 
and  once,  when  I  played  five  notes  with- 
out any  trouble,  she  went  down  through 
a  rent  in  her  skirt  which  was  fastened 
together  with  safety-pins,  and  fished  me 
out  a  caramel  from  a  hidden  pocket.  It 
was  very  old  and  hard,  and  looked  as 
[143] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


if  it  had  seen  much  service,  but  she  re- 
garded me  with  a  benevolent  expression 
while  I  ate  it,  and  I  felt  that  we  had 
made  a  good  beginning.  Take  it  alto- 
gether, I  thought  that  I  liked  music, 
and  I  practiced  for  hours.  It  was  a 
great  deal  of  fun  when  Madame  Tomaso 
was  not  there,  for  then  I  did  it  all  with 
one  finger,  which  made  it  much  easier. 
As  my  feet  hung  in  the  air,  the  twins 
worked  the  pedals  for  me,  and  my 
mother  would  come  into  the  parlor  with 
a  pleased  smile,  and  fix  the  curtains  so 
that  I  might  have  a  good  light. 

"  That  child  will  surely  be  a  musician," 
I  heard  her  tell  my  father,  in  an  eager 
way.  "  I  Ve  promised  her  a  ring  the 
day  that  she  can  play  the  Traumerei. 
It  may  take  a  long  time,  but  then  she 
practices  so  faithfully!" 

My  father  groaned.  I  think  my 
mother  slapped  him. 

Of  all  the  family  it  was,  perhaps, 
[144] 


THE    HOTTENTOT 


Norah  who  was  the  most  delighted  with 
my  lessons.  She  took  a  very  friendly 
interest  in  them.  She  always  dusted  the 
parlor  when  I  was  there  practicing,  and 
she  would  sometimes  put  down  a  big 
finger  herself  on  the  piano  keys  in  an 
experimental  way,  and  jump  when  they 
sounded.  There  was  only  one  thing 
about  my  music  which  worried  Norah, 
and  that  was  the  fact  that  I  knew  no 
tunes. 

"  Sure  it 's  time  that  you  were  learn- 
ing something,"  she  would  say,  suspi- 
ciously. "  Ain't  she  keeping  you  back? 
Can't  you  play  '  The  Wearing  of  the 
Green'  yit? " 

"  No,"  I  answered,  humbly. 

"  You  ought  to  have  an  Irish  teacher," 
she  said,  conclusively.  "  Madame  To- 
maso !  It 's  a  cat's  name  that  she  has ! 
I  never  could  abide  them  foreigners." 

"  Listen,  Norah,"  I  urged. 

Very  carefully,  very  slowly,  with  one 
10  [  145  ] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


finger  and  infinite  pains,  I  played 
"  Home,  Sweet  Home  "  for  her.  She 
burst  into  tears,  and  throwing  her  arms 
around  my  neck,  rocked  back  and  forth 
with  grief.  For  a  moment  I  thought 
that  I  had  hurt  her  feelings,  but  it  was 
all  right.  Norah  was  only  homesick  for 
old  Ireland.  She  was  paying  me  the 
highest  compliment  that  I  ever  received. 
Little  by  little  Madame  Tomaso  came 
to  treat  me  differently.  The  coaxing 
voice  grew  gruff,  and  the  black  eyes 
savage.  No  more  caramels  came  out  of 
the  rent  in  her  skirt,  and  sometimes  I 
almost  fancied  that  she  was  scolding  me! 
I  was  very  little  to  be  scolded.  No  one 
had  done  that  before.  I  tried  harder 
than  ever  to  please  her.  I  practiced 
with  two  fingers,  and,  at  last,  even  with 
three,  one  very  heavy  in  the  bass,  and 
two  very  shaky  in  the  treble.  I  did  not 
tell  anybody  about  the  things  which  she 
said,  for  I  was  ashamed,  but  I  imag- 
[146] 


THE    HOTTENTOT 


ined  that  granddad  suspected.  Grand- 
dad was  always  so  sharp.  It  was  a 
wonderful  comfort  to  hide  my  face  on 
his  shoulder,  and  be  petted.  He  was 
sorry  for  me  without  my  saying  a  single 
word.  He  made  me  draw  on  the  bank 
every  day,  and  he  confided  to  me  all  the 
troubles  which  he  had  had  when  he  was 
a  boy. 

Once  he  told  me  of  an  awful  thing 
that  he  did.  He  puffed  out  his  cheeks 
before  he  began  to  talk,  so  I  knew  that 
it  was  going  to  be  funny. 

"  I  did  n't  get  on  well  with  a  maid 
my  mother  had,"  he  said.  "  Her  name 
was  Polly.  Did  I  ever  tell  you  about 
Polly,  Rhoda? " 

"  No,  granddad,"  I  answered,  eagerly. 

I  was  leaning  against  his  chair,  and 
we  had  the  parlor  quite  to  ourselves.  It 
was  a  time  for  confidences. 

"  Polly  did  n't  like  boys,"  granddad 
went  on. 

[147] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


"  But  she  liked  you,  granddad,"  'I  as- 
serted, loyally. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  Polly  liked  me  least  of  all.  She  may 
have  had  her  reasons,  but  it  was  her 
fault  in  the  first  place,  mind  you. 
When  I  'd  bring  home  a  poor  stray 
dog,  she  would  turn  it  out  to  starve! 
And  when  I  brought  home  stones,  and 
I  was  always  fond  of  stones,  she  would 
dump  them  out  in  the  road.  I  felt 
that  I  should  like  to  get  even." 

I  nodded  at  him.  I  had  felt  that  way 
myself. 

"  So  I  got  a  lot  of  pepper,  and  one 
day  when  Polly  was  going  to  sweep  I 
scattered  it  around  the  house.  I  rubbed 
it  well  into  the  carpets." 

He  scraped  his  foot  over  the  floor 
to  show  me  just  how  he  did  it.  For 
the  moment  he  looked  about  ten  years 
old. 

"  I  rubbed  it  in  quite  hard.  It  did  n't 
[148] 


THE    HOTTENTOT 


show.  Nobody  could  tell  that  there  was 
anything  wrong  until  she  began  to 
sweep.  Well,  Rhoda,  if  you  could  have 
heard  her  sneeze,  it  would  have  done 
you  good.  She  sneezed  for  hours.  At 
first  they  thought  that  Polly  had  a  new 
kind  of  sickness.  They  went  flying  for 
the  doctor;  but  my  mother  had  noticed 
me  laugh,  and  she  pounced  on  me.  She 
shook  the  truth  out  of  me." 

He  trembled  with  laughter  at  the 
recollection. 

"  But  what  did  they  do  to  you,  grand- 
dad? "  I  asked,  breathlessly. 

Sometimes  his  story  would  have  an 
anticlimax. 

;<  They  put  me  down  in  the  big  black 
cellar,"  he  declared,  impressively. 

I  rubbed  my  head  against  his  shoul- 
der. I  felt  that  I  could  never  have 
treated  him  in  that  way  if  I  had  been 
his  mother. 

"  Poor  granddad,"  I  said,  in  a  consol- 
[149] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 

ing  whisper.  ;'  They  were  not  good  to 
you!" 

He  puffed  out  his  cheeks,  and  his 
eyes  shone. 

"  That  depends,"  he  said,  cheerfully. 
"  I  did  n't  mind,  bless  you.  We  lived 
in  the  country,  and  they  kept  their  pies 
in  the  cellar." 

"  Yes?  "  I  questioned,  eagerly. 

"  That  night  when  they  took  stock 
they  were  short  three  pies." 

"Oh!"  I  gasped. 

I  gazed  at  him  in  indecision.  He 
looked  back  at  me  quite  gravely,  save 
for  a  lurking  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

"Did  you  eat  them,  granddad?"  I 
asked,  confidentially. 

He  nodded. 

"  And  twenty  doughnuts,"  he  said. 

I  regarded  him  with  deep  admiration. 
What  a  dreadful  bad  boy  dear  grand- 
dad had  been! 

I  used  often  to  wish  that  Madame 
[150] 


THE    HOTTENTOT 


Tomaso  had  granddad  to  deal  with.  I 
did  not  think  that  she  would  be  so  cross, 
or,  at  least,  she  would  not  show  it  so 
openly.  She  had  a  trick  of  frowning 
until  her  eyebrows  grew  together  in  one 
thick,  black  line.  She  would  frown  and 
beat  time,  and  I  would  chase  after  her 
on  the  piano,  with  a  blur  before  my 
eyes,  and  my  heart  in  my  mouth.  Some- 
times we  arrived  at  a  bar  together,  both 
out  of  breath;  sometimes  she  left  me 
far  behind,  very  weak  and  miserable, 
with  stumbling  fingers  which  refused  to 
hurry.  She  always  beat  time  with  a 
large  black  fan,  and  when  the  chase 
proved  exhaustive,  she  would  open  the 
fan,  and  fan  herself  even  in  the  depth 
of  winter.  While  she  fanned  herself  she 
would  say  things  to  me,  unkind  things. 

Once  she  told  me  about  her  other 
pupils. 

"  I  have  ten,"  she  said,  "  ten  little 
girls.  Some  of  them  do  not  make  good 
[151] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


music.  /  rap  them  over  the  fingers  with 
my  fan! " 

She  went  on  for  quite  awhile  relating 
long  stories  of  raps  inflicted  upon  help- 
less little  girls,  some  of  whom  had  ac- 
tually been  saucy  to  her,  and  some  of 
whom  had  merely  played  false  notes  like 
myself.  A  much  larger  girl  than  I  had 
been  rapped  that  very  morning  for  false 
notes,  and  had  cried!  Afterwards  she 
had  played  a  great  deal  better. 

I  listened  in  growing  terror.  I  won- 
dered if  she  were  trying  to  frighten  me. 
Then  suddenly  I  glanced  up  at  my 
great-grandfather's  picture. 

The  parlor  walls  were  hung  with  the 
pictures  of  men  who  had  borne  my  name. 
Most  of  them  had  preached,  but  some 
had  fought;  and  he,  my  great-grand- 
father, who  looked  down  over  the  piano, 
had  preached  with  a  sword  in  his  hand. 
All  the  Harcourts  had  been  brave  men. 
They  had  never  been  afraid  of  anything. 
[152] 


THE    HOTTENTOT 


And  on  the  other  side  there  was  grand- 
dad Lawrence,  whose  courage  no  one 
could  possibly  question.  He  would  not 
have  stood  this  when  he  was  a  boy.  Just 
think  of  Polly! 

Something  inside  of  me  seemed  to 
awake.  I  turned  and  faced  her,  ogress 
though  she  was. 

'  You  '11  never  rap  mine,"  I  said, 
steadily.  "Never!  I  am  bad!  I  am  a 
Hottentot!" 

I  made  a  horrid  face  at  her,  such  as 
a  Hottentot  might  be  supposed  to  have. 

For  the  first  and  only  time  in  the 
course  of  our  acquaintance  she  laughed. 
She  laughed  as  if  she  would  die,  while 
I  sat  on  my  sofa  pillow  and  watched 
her.  During  the  rest  of  the  lesson  she 
was  remarkably  friendly. 

My  mother  was  much  pleased  with 

the  progress  that  I  made.     She  often 

spoke    of    Madame    Tomaso's    method, 

and  of  how  brilliantly  her  little  pupils 

[153] 


THE    CHRONICLES    or    RHODA 


played.  My  mother  had  never  heard 
of  raps.  All  the  family  were  encour- 
aging in  their  comments,  and  they,  also, 
set  me  a  shining  example.  My  mother 
rubbed  up  her  musical  knowledge,  and 
even  my  grandmother  would  steal  into 
the  parlor  in  the  early  twilight,  and 
play  some  Old  World  melody  which  held 
within  its  tune  the  hurry  of  dancing  feet. 
All  these  I  was  to  learn  some  day,  when 
my  fingers  had  grown  as  strong  as  my 
desire.  I  played  better  and  better  for 
the  admiring  circle,  until  Madame  To- 
maso  herself  would  have  been  astonished 
if  she  could  have  heard  me. 

"  She  really  does  quite  well,"  my  father 
said  one  night.  "  It  almost  sounds  like 
a  tune.  Is  it  '  Yankee  Doodle,'  or  '  Old 
Dog  Tray'?" 

"  Neither!  "  my  mother  cried,  warmly. 
"  I  don't  know  exactly  what  it  is  myself, 
but    it    is    probably    something    classic. 
And  she  is  doing  it  beautifully!" 
[154] 


THE    HOTTENTOT 


"It  is  'Yankee  Doodle,'  mother,"  I 
said,  in  a  whisper. 

She  did  not  hear  me.  She  was  looking 
at  the  piano  with  sad  eyes. 

"  They  have  taken  an  awful  lot 
out  of  it,"  she  said.  "  It  was  the  first 
thing  that  we  bought  after  we  were 
married! " 

'  Was  it?"  my  father  inquired, 
briskly.  "  I  thought  we  bought  the 
coffee-pot  first.  Did  n't  we  fry  eggs  in 
the  coffee-pot? " 

My  mother  gave  him  a  startled  glance. 

'  We  did  fry  eggs  in  a  coffee- 
pot," she  admitted,  reluctantly.  "  At 
least  you  fried  them.  I  did  not  know 
how." 

"  Somehow  eggs  don't  taste  as  good 
now-a-days  as  those  did,"  my  father  said, 
musingly.  "  I  wonder  if  it  was  the 
coffee-pot." 

Grandmother  leant  over  my  shoulder, 
and  examined  the  piano  cover. 
[155] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


"What  made  that,  Rhoda?  "  she  de- 
manded, pointing  to  a  broad  streak  which 
ran  through  the  plush. 

"  That  is  where  Madame  Tomaso  beats 
time,"  I  answered,  meekly. 

They  looked  at  one  another. 

"  She  is  such  an  excellent  teacher,"  my 
mother  said,  apologetically,  "  that  I  sup- 
pose I  ought  not  to  complain.  It 's  very 
good  of  her  to  take  so  much  trouble. 
Just  as  soon  as  they  are  large  enough, 
she  shall  teach  the  twins,  too." 

"  Oh,  no,  mother!  "  I  cried,  quickly. 

"Why  not,  Rhoda?" 

I  evaded  the  question. 

"  Couldn't  I  teach  them,  mother?"  I 
asked,  anxiously. 

They  all  laughed  at  me  as  if  I  had  said 
something  foolish. 

It  was  evident  that  I  should  never  get 

rid   of   Madame   Tomaso.      She   would 

come  year  after  year,  forever  and  ever, 

until  I  and  the  twins  were  quite  grown 

[156] 


THE    HOTTENTOT 


up.  The  twins  were  little  and  easily 
frightened.  She  would  make  them  cry. 
I  knew  that  she  would.  Sometimes,  al- 
though I  was  such  a  big  girl,  she  almost 
made  me  cry,  when  she  beat  time  and 
shouted,  for  she  was  beginning  to  shout. 
And  that  last  scene,  though  I  had  been 
victorious,  had  rankled.  I  felt  that  my 
mother  would  be  highly  indignant  if  I 
told  her,  but  somehow  I  could  not  tell 
her.  There  did  not  seem  to  be  any  way 
out.  I  looked  at  the  piano  cover,  and 
thought  and  thought. 

"  Granddad,"  I  inquired  next  day, 
"  what  became  of  Polly?  " 

"  Oh,  Polly  left,"  he  answered. 

"  Right  away,  granddad? "  I  de- 
manded, eagerly. 

"  Just  as  soon  as  she  could  get  her 
trunk  packed.  Why? " 

I  rubbed  my  head  against  his  shoulder 
without  replying. 

He  did  not  ask  any  more  questions,  but 
[157] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


he  looked  at  me,  keenly.  He  slipped  his 
hand  under  my  chin,  and  forced  me  to 
meet  his  eyes.  I  could  never  hide  my 
thoughts  from  anybody.  And  granddad 
was  always  so  horribly  sharp!  He 
chuckled  a  little  as  he  gazed  at  me. 
When  he  went  away  he  made  me  draw 
largely  on  the  bank,  and  he  patted  me 
on  the  head. 

"  Keep  up  your  courage,"  he  whis- 
pered. "  You  're  game!  " 

Out  in  the  hall  I  heard  him  ask  my 
mother  a  sudden  question. 

;'  When  does  Madame  Tomaso  come 
again?  "  he  inquired,  suavely. 

It  was  always  on  Tuesdays  that  Ma- 
dame Tomaso  came,  and  it  was  strange 
how  Tuesdays  raced  around.  That 
Tuesday,  in  particular,  arrived  almost  in 
a  moment  while  I  was  still  thinking. 
But  I  had  made  my  preparations. 

'  You  are  very  careless  about  the  cas- 
ters, Norah,"  my  mother  said  at  break- 
[158] 


THE    HOTTENTOT 


fast.  "  There  is  actually  no  pepper  on 
the  table." 

"  But  I  filled  them  last  night,  ma'am!  " 
Norah  cried,  staring. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  they  all  turned 
and  looked  at  me.  I  slipped  from  the 
room  in  a  hurry.  Somehow  I  felt  so 
queer  that  morning.  I  kept  sighing,  and 
when  the  door-bell  rang  I  would  get 
quite  cold  all  over.  It  rang  a  great  many 
times  before  Madame  Tomaso  came, 
fresh  and  alert  from  her  walk,  with  an 
air  of  friendliness  which  was  always  sure 
to  disappear  later.  She  turned  cross  very 
early  that  day,  even  before  she  had  taken 
off  her  things. 

"  I  have  been  too  lenient  with  you, 
little  Miss,"  she  told  me,  in  an  awful 
voice.  "  We  will  try  a  new  method." 

She  seated  herself  by  the  piano,  and 

folded  her  arms.     I  sat  perched  on  my 

cushion,  and  stared  at  her  in  fascination. 

Oh,  how  I  wished  that  I  had  let  the 

[159] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


pepper  alone!  Oh,  how  I  wished  that 
I  was  good  1  After  all  it  was  so  pleasant 
to  be  good. 

"  Play,"  she  said,  in  a  masterful  man- 
ner. "  I  will  be  an  audience.  I  will  be  a 
great  many  mens  and  womens.  We  will 
listen  to  you." 

I  played.  It  was  very  terrible.  Her 
eyebrows  grew  together.  That  was  the 
way  she  would  look  when  she  found  me 
out,  only  worse,  much  worse.  I  played 
faster.  She  watched  my  notes,  and  some- 
times she  would  moan,  feebly,  as  if 
something  hurt  her.  I  played  on  faster 
still,  one  trembling  little  hand  racing 
ahead  of  the  other,  until  musical  flesh  and 
blood  could  stand  it  no  longer.  She 
began  to  count  with  a  shout. 

"One,  two,  three,  four!"  she  cried, 
and  brought  the  fan  down  on  the  piano 
cover. 

Then  she  sneezed. 

"  I  knew  it,"  she  murmured,  grimly, 
[160] 


THE    HOTTENTOT 


to  herself.  "  I  felt  it  coming  on  this 
morning  !  " 

She  counted  again  and  sneezed,  and  I 
sneezed  a  little  myself  in  a  hurried,  guilty 
way.  She  looked  at  me  with  sudden 
suspicion.  She  was  sharp,  almost  as 
sharp  as  granddad.  In  a  second  she  had 
lifted  the  piano  cover,  and  found  a  pile 
of  pepper  under  that  well-worn  spot. 
The  things  which  she  said  were  awful. 
She  said  them  in  three  or  four  languages, 
and  she  said  them  in  such  a  high  voice 
that  my  mother  and  grandmother  came 
running  in  alarm.  She  pointed  at  me, 
with  a  shaking  finger. 

"  Look  at  your  child,"  she  cried.  "  She 
lays  traps  for  me  !  Pepper  traps  !  " 

"  Rhoda  !  "  my  mother  exclaimed. 

My  grandmother  seemed  stricken 
dumb. 

I  hung  my  head  in  shame.  I  had  for- 
gotten how  sorry  they  would  be. 

She  told  them  all  about  it.  She  knew 
11  [  161  ] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


just  why  I  had  done  it,  and  how  I  had 
done  it.  She  declared  that  she  would 
never  give  me  another  lesson.  No,  never ! 
Her  voice  grew  very  loud  in  her  denun- 
ciation, and  the  mild  words  of  shocked 
apology  which  my  mother  put  in  from 
time  to  time  were  swept  away  in  the  tor- 
rent of  her  wrath.  I  saw  my  grand- 
mother's lip  curl,  and  my  mother  look 
astonished.  They  were  judging  her  by 
their  own  standards  of  quiet  reticence 
and  womanly  dignity.  She  was  almost 
justifying  me. 

Yet  before  she  went  she  lodged  an 
arrow  in  my  mother's  heart. 

"  As  for  the  child's  talent,"  she  cried, 
and  snapped  her  fingers.  "  It  would  be 
as  easy  to  teach  her  the  tight-rope !  " 

I  heard  somebody  laugh  in  the  next 
room.  It  sounded  just  like  granddad. 

My  mother  and  my  grandmother  went 
to  the  door  with  Madame  Tomaso,  and 
saw  her  out  quite  as  if  she  were  company, 
[162] 


THE    HOTTENTOT 


and  then  they  came  back  into  the  parlor 
and  gazed  at  me.  They  did  not  seem  to 
know  just  what  to  say.  It  was  evident 
that  I  had  done  something  dreadful.  I 
began  to  be  frightened.  We  had  a  big 
black  cellar,  with  dark,  cavernous  recesses 
where  cobwebs  swayed  about,  and 
dwarfs  peeped  out  at  you.  I  wished 
that  it  was  night,  and  I  was  safe  in  my 
bed. 

Then  somebody  shuffled  in  behind  me, 
and  patted  my  head  softly.  I  looked  up 
into  two  merry  blue  eyes. 

"  Don't  you  fret,  Rhoda,"  a  sympa- 
thizing voice  said.  "  Granddad  will  stand 
by  you." 

Even  now  when  he  is  only  a  memory  I 
can  still  feel  the  thrill  of  gratitude  with 
which  I  clung  to  his  protecting  hand. 


[163] 


VI 
A   SOCIAL  EVENT 


VI 
A  SOCIAL  EVENT 


"BUT  she  hasn't  any  dress!"  my 
mother  cried,  in  consternation.  "  Only 
that  white  Sunday  one  which  is  much 
too  short ! " 

"  Let  down  a  tuck,"  my  grandmother 
said,  decisively.  "  That  would  lengthen 
it." 

"  Oh,  do  let  down  a  tuck,  mother! " 
I  echoed,  eagerly. 

I  had  a  little  pink  envelope  hugged 
up  close  against  my  apron.  On  the  out- 
side it  had  "  Miss  Rhoda  Harcourt " 
written  in  very  large  letters,  and  on  the 
inside  it  invited  me  to  a  party!  I  was 
not  quite  sure  what  people  did  at  a  party ; 
but  I  knew  it  must  be  something  delight- 
ful, judging  from  the  commotion  the 
[167] 


THE    CHRONICLES   OF    RHODA 


pink  envelope  made  in  the  family. 
There  was  a  whirlwind  of  talk  about 
white  dresses,  and  new  slippers,  and  blue 
bows,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  discussion 
Auntie  May  caught  up  her  dress  and 
danced. 

"  Come    here,    Rhoda,"    she    called. 
'  This  is  what  they  do  at  a  party.    Come. 
I  will  teach  you  how." 

I  braced  my  back,  stiffly,  and  let  her 
haul  me  around.  This  was  a  serious  mat- 
ter, and  must  be  undertaken  with  a  sober 
mind. 

"  She  has  n't  any  spring  in  her," 
Auntie  May  exclaimed,  ruefully.  "  Who 
would  think  that  she  is  related  to 
me!" 

"  She  does  not  come  of  a  dancing 
family,"  my  grandmother  replied,  with 
a  cold  smile.  "  The  Harcourts  look  after 
their  souls,  and  let  their  feet  alone." 

Auntie  May  made  a  wry  face.     She 
was  my  mother's  sister. 
[168] 


A    SOCIAL    EVENT 


"  Don't  shut  up  like  a  knife,  Rhoda," 
she  said,  disconsolately.  "  Let  yourself 
go.  There,  I  believe  the  Lawrence  side 
of  the  family  is  waking  up  at  last!  " 

She  looked  so  pretty  as  she  danced  in 
the  firelight  that  I  tried  to  be  like  her.  I 
copied  her  courtesies,  and  followed  her 
steps,  and  when,  at  length,  she  fell 
breathlessly  into  a  chair,  I  leaned  against 
her  knee  with  my  hand  on  her  pink 
cheek. 

"  Auntie  May,  are  you  going,  too?  "  I 
asked,  confidentially. 

Somehow  I  thought  it  would  be  rather 
nice  to  have  Auntie  May  there,  just  for 
company. 

"  Child!  "  she  cried,  with  a  grand  air, 
"  it 's  a  children's  party.  I  am  sixteen!  " 

I  felt  the  rebuke.  I  was  only  seven 
myself,  and  there  were  whole  centuries 
between  us.  It  was  strange,  though, 
how  sometimes  Auntie  May  would  play 
with  my  dolls,  and  sometimes  she  would 
[  169  ] 


THE    CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


tuck  up  her  hair  and  keep  me  at  arm's 
length.  I  never  knew  which  she  was 
going  to  be  —  little  girl  or  grown 
woman. 

Auntie  May  did  not  live  with  us,  but 
in  another  house  with  a  lady  who  called 
herself  my  frivolous  grandmother,  and 
curled  her  hair  every  day  of  her  life. 
Grandmother  Harcourt  wore  sober  black 
silk  dresses,  but  this  other  grandmother 
liked  blue  and  pink,  and  even  sometimes 
a  gallant  touch  of  red  that  made  her  look 
almost  young  again.  Whenever  she 
looked  her  youngest,  she  was  greatly 
pleased,  and  curled  her  hair  trium- 
phantly. At  family  meetings  the  two 
grandmothers  often  made  those  curls  the 
subject  for  discussion,  and  oftener  still  it 
was  my  dress  and  manners  which  never 
seemed  to  suit  either  of  them.  One 
wanted  me  very  quiet  and  subdued,  and 
dressed  in  gingham,  and  the  other  wanted 
me  very  gay  and  lively,  and  dressed  in 
[170] 


A    SOCIAL    EVENT 


silk.  As  grandmother  Harcourt  lived 
in  our  house,  she  had  the  advantage,  and, 
save  for  occasional  bursts  of  splendor,  I 
went  in  great  meekness  of  spirit  and 
dress. 

I  had  thought  at  first  that  there  was 
going  to  be  trouble  about  the  party. 
My  frivolous  grandmother  objected  seri- 
ously to  the  idea  of  that  tuck.  She 
seemed  to  think  that  I  should  look  very 
shabby  among  the  other  little  girls.  She 
spoke  of  her  position,  and  of  the  great 
pleasure  that  it  would  give  her  to  buy  me 
a  dress. 

"  Nellie,"  she  urged,  almost  with  tears 
in  her  eyes,  "  let  me  buy  Rhoda  a  suitable 
dress.  You  surely  don't  want  that  un- 
fortunate child  to  go  to  the  Otway's  with 
a  tuck  let  down!  " 

Grandmother  Harcourt  did  not  say 

anything.     I  fancy  that  she  must  have 

had  it  all  arranged  beforehand,  for,  after 

a    rather   appealing   look    at   her,    my 

[171] 


THE    CHRONICLES    or    RHODA 


mother   declined   the   offer   in   a   faint, 
reluctant  voice. 

I  did  not  care  what  I  wore.  I  was 
going  to  a  party.  That  was  enough  for 
me.  All  the  night  before  I  could  not 
sleep,  and  when,  at  last,  the  hour  drew 
near,  and  I  stood  before  my  mother  while 
she  gave  a  final  touch  to  my  floating  hair, 
I  felt  that  it  was  all  a  dream.  It  was  a 
dream  going  down  the  stairs  while  the 
twins,  in  their  nightgowns,  peeped  after 
me,  and  it  was  a  dream  getting  into  the 
carriage  which  Auntie  May  had  brought 
to  take  me.  The  very  streets  were  a 
dream,  with  little  white-clad  girls  pass- 
ing in  our  direction  and  little  boys,  with 
stiff  white  collars  and  solemn  faces,  walk- 
ing along  behind  them.  And  most  of  all 
that  big  house  on  the  hill  was  a  dream, 
with  the  lights  shining  in  all  its  windows, 
and  the  rows  of  Chinese  lanterns  in  the 
piazza,  and  a  nearby  violin  letting  off 
cheerful  notes  of  preparation. 
[172] 


A    SOCIAL    EVENT 


"  Mrs.  Otway  is  giving  this  party 
for  the  two  little  grandchildren  who 
are  visiting  her,"  Auntie  May  said, 
peering  out  of  the  carriage  window. 
;<  They  come  from  the  city.  They  are 
cousins.  You  saw  them  in  church  on 
Sunday." 

So  that  was  who  they  were!  I  felt 
that  I  had  learned  something.  Only  the 
Sunday  before  there  had  come  into  the 
pew  before  me,  first  a  little  boy,  and 
then  a  little  girl,  followed  by  a  party  of 
ladies.  The  little  boy  sat  up  in  the  far 
end  of  the  pew,  just  as  I  did,  and  he  had 
a  high  silk  hat  laid  on  the  cushion  beside 
him,  and  an  elegant  cane  with  a  silver 
head  to  which  he  seemed  much  attached. 
I  never  noticed  little  boys  as  a  rule.  I 
divided  them  into  two  classes:  boys  who 
walked  clumsily,  in  heavy  boots,  and 
glanced  sidewise  at  me,  and  bad  boys 
who  made  awful  faces  from  behind  trees. 
Never  to  one  of  them  had  I  said  a  single 
[173] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


word.  That  boy,  however,  was  some- 
thing quite  different.  I  knew  that  as 
soon  as  I  looked  at  him.  He  had  a  light 
graceful  figure,  and  brave,  beautiful 
eyes.  When  he  gazed  over  his  shoulder 
and  smiled  at  me,  I  felt  strangely 
pleased.  It  was  as  though  some  one 
whom  I  had  known  a  long  time  ago  had 
come  again. 

"Oh,  so  he  is  Theodore  Otway!"  I 
cried,  unguardedly,  remembering  the 
name  on  my  pink  invitation. 

Auntie  May  laughed  a  whole  minute, 
just  about  nothing  at  all. 

'  You  get  down  here,  Rhoda,"  she 
said.  "  Now,  remember  to  shake  out 
your  hair  the  way  that  I  showed  you. 
And  don't  you  get  frightened  as  you 
always  do.  Your  dress  isn't  very  fine; 
but  there  is  one  thing  that  is  nice  about 
it.  It  has  real  lace  basted  in  the  neck. 
Mother  put  it  in.  Just  fancy,  grand- 
mother Harcourt  never  noticed!  Al- 
[174] 


A    SOCIAL    EVENT 


ways  give  your  right  hand  first  in  the 
ladies'  chain.  You  are  the  only  little  girl 
who  has  come  in  a  carriage.  Oh,  dear 
me,  I  wish  that  it  was  n't  a  children's 
party!  I'd  just  love  to  go  in!  The 
lovely,  lovely  music !  What  shall  you  do, 
Rhoda,  if  you  get  very  frightened? " 

"  I  '11  shut  my  eyes,  and  think  that  I  'm 
in  church,"  I  answered,  soberly. 

"  Good  heavens ! "  I  heard  her  cry  as 
the  carriage  drove  away,  "  there 's  the 
other  side  of  the  family  coming  out  after 
all!" 

I  went  up  the  steps  rather  breath- 
lessly. There  was  a  big  lump  rising  in 
my  throat,  as  if  I  had  run  miles  and  miles. 
I  wondered  if  they  would  let  me  in,  or 
if  I  would  have  to  say  what  my  name 
was.  I  was  not  real  sure  in  my  mind  that 
I  knew  what  my  name  was.  Once,  years 
ago,  I  had  been  called  Rhoda,  but  Rhoda 
always  went  to  bed  at  seven  o'clock. 
This  was  a  new  little  girl,  a  fairy  child, 
[175] 


THE    CHRONICLES    or    RHODA 


who  walked  under  globes  of  fire  straight 
into  fairy-land. 

Up,  up,  I  went,  past  a  man  with  shin- 
ing buttons  who  held  the  door  open  very 
graciously  for  me,  past  shrubs  and 
flowers  banked  along  the  staircase,  into 
a  room  where  there  was  a  great  hum  of 
voices.  Ever  so  many  little  girls,  dozens 
of  them,  were  taking  off  their  hats,  and 
shaking  out  their  skirts,  and  doing  what 
grandmother  called  "  prinking  "  before 
a  great  glass.  I  prinked  a  little  myself, 
following  out  Auntie  May's  directions.  I 
thought  that  I  looked  rather  nice.  A 
woman  in  a  white  cap  seemed  to  think 
so,  too.  She  took  a  great  deal  of  pains 
with  me,  and  when  the  other  little  girls, 
who  knew  one  another,  went  down  the 
stairs  in  a  group,  she  led  me  by  the  hand 
to  the  staircase,  and  showed  me  where 
to  go. 

It  was  very  hard  to  walk  down  the 
stairs  alone.  I  had  such  a  queer  feeling, 


A    SOCIAL    EVENT 


and  I  could  not  see  a  thing  for  a  mist 
before  my  eyes.  I  went  quite  slowly, 
step  by  step.  I  could  hear  the  people 
in  the  parlor  talking. 

A  lady  said,  "How  pretty!"  and  a 
boy's  voice  cried,  "Here  she  is!  Here 
she  is,  at  last! " 

Then  in  a  moment  some  one  was  shak- 
ing my  hand.  Little  by  little  the  mist 
cleared  from  before  my  eyes,  and  I  saw 
that  I  was  at  the  party. 

The  parlor  was  a  long  room,  running 
the  whole  length  of  the  house,  but  it 
looked  crowded  that  night.  There  were 
groups  of  little  girls,  all  those  whom  I 
had  seen  upstairs,  and  more  besides,  and 
lots  and  lots  of  little  boys  who  stood  in 
corners  and  laughed  among  themselves. 
There  were  lights  on  the  walls  and 
flowers  everywhere,  and  the  few  grown- 
up people  who  moved  about  seemed  just 
as  gay  and  festive  as  the  children.  By 
the  door  were  stationed  Theodore  Otway 
12  [  177  ] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


and  his  cousin,  and  she  had  on  a  lovely 
pink  dress  with  cascades  of  little  bows 
falling  down  her  back.  All  the  grown- 
up ladies  seemed  to  watch  her,  and  when 
she  pranced  and  shook  her  bows  I  heard 
a  lady  say,  "  Paris !  "  in  an  awed  tone. 

There  was  such  a  hubbub  everywhere 
that  I  did  not  notice  at  first  that  a  boy, 
whom  I  had  never  seen  before,  was  writ- 
ing his  name  on  my  programme.  He 
was  quite  a  stout  boy  in  tight  clothes. 

"  I  '11  take  this  first  one,  just  to  make 
sure,"  he  said.  "  Maybe,  after  awhile, 
I  '11  dance  with  you  again.  Don't  you 
forget  what  I  look  like." 

"  No,"  I  answered,  humbly. 

"  That 's  right,"  he  continued,  patron- 
izingly. "  What 's  your  name?  " 

I  told  him  in  a  bashful  whisper. 

"  Well,  you  want  to  watch  out,  and 
when  I  holler  '  Rhoda '  you  come  where 
I  am.     That  will  be  when  the   music 
strikes  up.    Don't  forget." 
[178] 


A    SOCIAL    EVENT 


"  No,"  I  said  again. 

"If  you  are  not  there,  I  might  take 
some  other  girl,"  he  remarked,  as  a  final 
caution. 

Theodore  Otway  was  going  by,  led  by 
a  lady.  She  was  arguing  seriously  with 
him. 

"  Of  course  you  must  dance  the  first 
dance  with  your  cousin!  "  I  heard  her  cry. 
"  I  told  you  yesterday  that  you  must. 
You  can  ask  the  little  girl  some  other 
time." 

He  gave  me  a  miserable  glance  as  he 
went  to  the  other  end  of  the  room. 

I  hardly  noticed  him.  I  was  so  wor- 
ried over  the  stout  boy,  who  roved  about 
the  room,  here  and  there  and  everywhere. 
Once  he  hid  behind  a  sofa,  and  once  he 
went  out  in  the  hall  to  get  a  drink  of 
lemonade.  He  unbuttoned  his  jacket, 
and  tried  to  make  himself  look  different 
by  crossing  his  eyes.  I  was  sure  that  he 
did.  And,  just  when  the  music  struck  up, 
[179] 


THE    CHRONICLES    or    RHODA 


he  disappeared  altogether!  The  other 
little  girls  all  had  partners.  I  was  the 
only  one  left  out.  I  felt  it  very  keenly. 

Suddenly  I  heard  some  one  shout, 
"Rhoda!" 

I  turned  around,  and  there  he  was  be- 
hind my  chair,  where  he  had  been  stand- 
ing all  the  time. 

"  Come  along,"  he  said,  just  as  if  it 
were  my  fault,  although  there  was  a  look 
of  elation  about  him.  "  If  you  don't 
hurry  up,  we  won't  get  in  the  top  set. 
That 's  the  nicest  of  all." 

I  followed  him,  meekly.  I  was  very 
glad  to  find  him  again,  but  I  felt  an  in- 
ward conviction  that  I  should  never  get 
used  to  boys. 

It  was  not  hard  to  dance.  Somehow  it 
was  more  fun  than  it  had  been  at  home 
with  Auntie  May.  I  always  remembered 
to  give  my  right  hand  first  in  the  ladies' 
chain,  and  when  I  met  my  partner  I  cour- 
tesied  to  him  every  time.  I  did  not  forget 
[180] 


A    SOCIAL    EVENT 


a  single  thing!  The  music  was  very 
lively,  and  everybody  was  smiling,  even 
the  grown-up  people  at  the  other  end  of 
the  room  who  danced  and  romped  among 
themselves.  I  thought  that  I  should  like 
to  go  on  forever,  back  and  forth,  and  in 
and  out  in  the  ladies'  chain.  I  wished  that 
the  music  would  never  stop,  but  it  did,  at 
last,  with  a  sudden  chord,  and  we  were 
all  ready  for  something  else. 

It  was  a  game  this  time,  a  strange,  new 
game  called  "  Post-office."  It  began  by 
a  little  girl  leaving  the  room,  mysteri- 
ously, and  calling  a  little  boy  out  into  the 
hall  to  receive  a  letter. 

"  There  's  a  letter  in  the  post-office  for 
Davie  Williams,"  she  cried,  in  a  shrill, 
high  voice  that  sounded  frightened. 

All  the  other  little  girls  laughed. 
Davie  Williams  grew  very  red  in  the  face, 
but  he  went  out  for  his  letter,  and  closed 
the  door  carefully  behind  him. 

I  wondered  why  he  stayed  so  long,  and 
[181] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


what  they  could  possibly  be  doing  behind 
the  door.  It  was  very  exciting.  Sup- 
pose, just  suppose,  that  there  should  be 
a  letter  for  me!  More  little  girls  went 
out,  and  more  little  boys.  The  girls 
tossed  their  heads,  and  the  boys  went 
quickly,  as  though  to  get  it  over.  One 
boy  called  out  another  boy  instead  of  a 
little  girl,  and  was  laughed  at.  I  did 
not  think  that  I  should  like  to  be  laughed 
at.  Then  Theodore  Otway  went  out 
and  I  heard  my  name. 

He  was  waiting  for  me  with  his  hands 
in  his  pockets. 

"  Hello,"  he  said,  in  a  diffident  way. 

"  Hello,"  I  answered,  shyly  fingering 
my  hair. 

I  looked  about  for  the  wonderful  some- 
thing which  I  had  come  to  see.  There 
was  nothing,  only  the  hall  and  Theodore 
Otway  still  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 
Strange  to  say  he  seemed  embarrassed. 
He  fidgeted.  He  talked  in  jerks. 
[182] 


A    SOCIAL    EVENT 


"  I  saw  you  in  church,"  he  said, 
suddenly. 

I  nodded  at  him. 

"  I  saw  you,  too,"  I  confessed,  with  a 
shamefaced  smile. 

He  came  a  step  nearer,  and  hesitated. 

"  Say,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  live  in  this 
house  when  I  'm  home." 

"No?"  I  answered,  inquiringly. 

"  No,"  he  replied,  seriously. 

We  were  both  silent.  There  did  not 
seem  to  be  anything  more  to  talk  about. 
Still  it  was  rather  nice  out  in  the  hall. 

Somebody  rattled  the  knob.  Evi- 
dently our  turn  was  over. 

"  Who 's  going  to  take  you  out  to 
supper?  "  he  asked,  with  sudden  interest. 

"  I  don't  know,"  I  answered. 

"  Well,  let  me  take  you,  won't  you? 
You  'd  better.  There  's  a  boy  here  who 
plays  tricks  on  little  girls !  " 

I  shivered.    Was  it  the  stout  boy? 

"  Once  he  made  a  little  girl  cry  out 
[183] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


loud  at  a  party !  You  'd  better.  Will 
you?  Say  yes." 

He  came  a  little  closer.  He  put  out 
his  hand,  and  touched  my  hair. 

"  It 's  like  sunshine!  "  he  cried,  with  a 
burst  of  enthusiasm. 

I  stole  a  shy  glance  at  him.  Nobody 
had  ever  told  me  that  before. 

"  Say  yes !  "  he  begged,  in  a  new  tone. 

"  Yes,"  I  whispered,  hiding  my  face 
behind  my  hair. 

Somebody  rattled  the  knob  again. 
They  were  growing  impatient. 

:<  Well,  good-bye,"  he  said,  in  a  hurried 
way.  His  hands  were  back  in  his  pockets. 

"  Good-bye,"  I  answered. 

He  went  toward  the  door,  then  turned 
again,  as  if  he  had  forgotten  something, 
and  stood  thinking. 

"Will  you  give  me  that?"  he  asked, 
pointing  to  a  wee  blue  bow  on  my  sleeve. 

I  unpinned  it,  and  laid  it  in  his  hand. 
He  fastened  it  to  the  front  of  his  coat. 
[184] 


A    SOCIAL    EVENT 


He  strutted  a  little  as  he  went  into  the 
parlor.  I  could  see  by  his  smile  that  he 
was  pleased. 

It  was  my  turn  now,  and  I  must  call  a 
little  boy,  for  that  was  what  all  the  girls 
did.  I  looked  in  the  parlor,  undecidedly. 
There  was  the  stout  boy  going  by  with  a 
cheerful  wink,  and  away  in  the  back  of 
the  room  a  nice  little  fairhaired  boy 
named  Eddie  was  watching  me,  wist- 
fully. I  called  Eddie,  with  sudden  fear- 
lessness. He  came  with  a  rush,  and 
closed  the  door  behind  him.  Then  he 
kissed  me  before  I  could  say  a  single 
word !  I  pushed  him  away,  and  began  to' 
cry.  Even  through  my  bitter  tears  I 
could  see  his  astonished  face.  How  was 
he  to  know  that  all  my  life  I  had  hated 
to  be  kissed  by  strangers.  And  now  by 
a  boy! 

"Why,  that's  the  game!"  he  cried, 
eagerly.  "  What  did  you  call  me  out 
for?" 

[185] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


"  I  don't  know,"  I  answered,  sobbing. 

He  gazed  at  me  with  a  worried  look. 
Then  he  pulled  out  a  fat,  white  lozenge 
from  his  vest  pocket,  and  offered  it 
to  me. 

"  Here,  take  that,"  he  said,  generously. 

I  examined  it  through  my  tears  with 
strong  disfavor.  It  looked  like  medicine. 
Still  I  did  not  want  to  hurt  his  feelings. 
I  ate  it  with  misgivings. 

"  That 's  right,"  he  said,  radiantly. 
"  They  are  good  for  sore  throat.  My 
father  takes  them.  Don't  you  feel  better 
now?" 

*  Yes,"  I  answered,  with  a  weak  smile. 

It  was  evident  that  in  his  way  he  meant 
to  be  kind,  and,  perhaps,  after  all  the 
lozenge  like  the  kiss  might  be  a  part  of 
the  game. 

They  were  dancing  in  the  parlor  when 

we  went  back,  and  the  fun  was  growing 

loud  and  furious.     One  little  girl  was 

singing,  rapturously,  as  she  danced,  and 

[186] 


A    SOCIAL    EVENT 


two  little  boys  were  sliding  in  a  corner. 
There  was  talk  of  supper.  Somebody, 
peeking  through  a  keyhole,  had  seen  pink 
ice-cream,  and  had  come  away  dazzled. 
The  great  hour  was  drawing  near,  and 
little  boys  were  going  about  looking  for 
their  partners.  Up  at  the  end  of  the 
room  Theodore's  mother  was  talking  to 
him. 

He  came  to  me  afterwards,  with  a 
crest-fallen  air: 

"  Say,"  he  said,  "  I  can't  take  you  out 
to  supper.  I  have  to  take  my  cousin. 
She  says  so." 

He  looked  back  over  his  shoulder, 
threateningly. 

"  What  she  says  now,  goes.  When 
I  'm  a  man  things  will  be  different. 
Ain't  you  sorry  I  can't  take  you 
out?" 

"  Yes,"  I  confessed,  candidly. 

He  seemed  to  be  glad  that  I  should  be 
sorry. 

[187] 


THE    CHRONICLES    or    RHODA 


"  He  's  going  to  take  you  out,"  he  con- 
tinued, with  a  jealous  nod  at  the  stout 
boy.  "  She  asked  him  to." 

I  did  not  want  to  go  with  the  stout 
boy.  Every  time  that  he  looked  sidewise 
at  me  I  felt  a  sudden  fear.  Suppose  that 
it  should  be  a  trick!  Suppose  that  he 
should  think  of  something  new  to  do 
right  now!  When  the  inspiring  march 
began,  however,  and  we  all  fell  into  line, 
each  little  girl  on  the  arm  of  her  partner, 
I  forgot  everything  in  my  excitement, 
and  grew  almost  reconciled. 

We  passed  solemnly  around  the  parlor 
three  times,  and  then  swept  across  the 
hall  into  an  opposite  room.  In  the  center 
of  the  room  there  stood  a  beautiful  table, 
and  the  woman  in  the  white  cap,  who  was 
the  only  grown  person  in  sight,  was  serv- 
ing out  pink  ice-cream.  The  little  girls 
sat  on  chairs  about  the  walls,  and  the 
little  boys  brought  them  plates  full  of 
goodies  from  the  table.  There  were 
[188] 


A    SOCIAL    EVENT 


lovely  things  which  I  had  never  seen 
before,  much  too  pretty  to  eat,  and  al- 
most too  fragile  to  touch.  And  over  the 
whole  room  there  fell  the  soft  light  of 
candles. 

"  Do  you  like  ice-cream? "  the  stout 
boy  asked,  when  he  had  seen  me  set- 
tled in  my  chair.  "  I  tell  you  what  1 11 
do.  I  '11  pick  out  all  the  things  that  I 
like." 

He  was  a  wonderful  provider.  I  could 
see  him  heaping  up  my  plate,  and  he  al- 
ways seemed  to  take  the  best  of  every- 
thing. No  other  girl  was  going  to  have 
such  mammoth  slices  of  cake  as  I,  and  he 
had  a  perfect  pyramid  of  candy  in  his 
hand.  I  knew  that  I  could  never  eat  it 
all,  no,  not  a  half.  Somehow  he  did  not 
seem  able  to  find  me  afterwards.  I 
beckoned  to  him,  but  still  he  turned  aside, 
and  went  toward  a  far  corner.  He  was 
sitting  down!  He  was  going  to  eat  the 
things  himself !  Was  it  a  trick  ?  I  looked 
[189] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


down  hard  in  my  lap.  Never,  no,  never, 
should  he  make  me  cry  out  loud  at  a 
party! 

I  heard  a  sudden  sound  of  wrath.  I 
turned  around  just  in  time  to  see  Theo- 
dore Otway  tip  the  stout  boy  over  on  the 
floor,  and  sit  on  him.  He  seemed  to  be 
very  angry.  He  pounded  the  stout  boy. 
I  was  almost  afraid  to  look.  The  woman 
in  the  white  cap  left  off  serving  pink  ice- 
cream, and  made  a  dreadful  outcry. 

"  Oh,  Master  Theodore,"  she  cried, 
wringing  her  hands.  "  Oh,  Master  Theo- 
dore! You  mustn't  do  that!  It's  not 
polite!" 

A  little  boy  cheered  faintly,  and  in  the 
next  room,  where  the  older  people  were 
having  their  supper,  there  was  a  hur- 
ried consultation.  Then  Mrs.  Otway 
came  in. 

"  What  is  all  this? "  she  asked,  in  as- 
tonishment, looking  as  if  she  could  not 
believe  her  eyes.     "  Theodore  1 " 
[190] 


A    SOCIAL    EVENT 


She  caught  him  by  the  arm,  and 
dragged  him  up  in  a  hurry. 

"For  shame!"  she  cried.  "What  a 
way  to  treat  your  company  I  I  'm  going 
to  put  you  right  straight  to  bed." 

A  shudder  ran  around  the  room,  and 
we  all  looked  at  one  another  in  horror. 
To  be  put  to  bed  at  a  party!  There  was 
a  disgrace. 

"  I  don't  care,"  Theodore  retorted, 
recklessly,  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  "  I  'd 
do  it  again  any  day.  He  's  a  greedy 

Pig  I" 

I  stole  up  and  slipped  my  hand  in 

his.  Somehow  I  did  not  like  to  see  him 
cry. 

"  He  was  eating  that  little  girl's 
supper,"  a  chorus  of  eager  little  boys 
explained.  "  He  was  eating  it  all 
up!" 

"  I  was  n't  either,"  the  stout  boy  de- 
clared, hastily.  "  I  was  only  pretend- 
ing." He  dusted  off  his  knees,  and 
[191] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


looked  around  the  incredulous  circle.  "  I 
tell  you  I  was  only  pretending.  I 
was  going  to  bring  it  to  her  all  right 
afterwards." 

Nobody  believed  him,  not  even  I,  for 
had  I  not  seen  him  eating  the  pink 
ice-cream  ? 

"  You  had  better  come  with  me," 
Mrs.  Otway  said,  laughingly.  "  Come. 
You  can  finish  your  supper  in  the  next 
room." 

It  was  very  pleasant  after  she  had 
taken  him  away.  Every  one  was  so  good 
to  me.  There  were  lots  of  nice  things 
left  on  the  table,  and  Theodore  filled  the 
largest  plate  that  he  could  find.  Other 
little  boys  stood  around  to  watch  me  eat, 
and  gave  me  presents.  One  gave  me  his 
jackknife,  and  one  gave  me  a  penny 
which  he  had  brightened  to  gold  by  rub- 
bing it  on  the  carpet.  When  we  went 
back  in  the  parlor  there  were  dozens  and 
dozens  of  little  boys  who  wanted  to  dance 
[192] 


A    SOCIAL    EVENT 


with  me.  I  could  not  tell  whom  to 
choose.  Then,  in  hardly  a  moment, 
Auntie  May  looked  in  the  door,  and  I 
knew  that  the  party  was  over,  and  I  must 
go  home. 

I  told  Theodore  good-bye  last  of 
all. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  said,  slipping  a  little 
brass  curtain-ring  on  my  left  hand. 
"  I  'm  coming  back  when  I  'm  a  man. 
Then  we  '11  get  married,  and  live  in  a 
house.  And  I  '11  shoot  rabbits  for  dinner. 
Would  you  like  that? " 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  promptly. 

He  surveyed  me  for  an  anxious  mo- 
ment. Our  heads  were  very  nearly  on  a 
level. 

"Don't  you  grow  too  tall,"  he 
cautioned. 

"  No,"  I  promised,  and  was  half-way 
to  the  door,  when  he  caught  me  again  by 
the  hand. 

"  If  anybody  makes  you  cry,"  he  whis- 
13  [  193  ] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


pered,  ardently,  "  you  write  to  me,  and 
I  '11  come  back." 

I  gave  him  a  grateful  smile.  I  knew 
that  he  would. 

Auntie  May  said  very  little  as  the 
carriage  rolled  along,  but  when,  at  last, 
we  reached  home,  she  swept  me  in  before 
the  assembled  family. 

"  There  were  ten  little  boys  telling  her 
good-night,"  she  cried,  breathlessly,  in  a 
voice  divided  between  awe  and  delight. 
"  Ten  little  boys !  Just  fancy !  Our 
Rhoda!  She  was  a  great  success.  She 
was  the  prettiest  one  there." 

My  mother  put  out  a  tender  hand  and 
drew  me  to  her. 

"  And  did  you  have  a  good  time  at  the 
party,  Rhoda? "  she  asked,  eagerly. 
"  A  real  good  time,  little  girl? " 

I  looked  around  the  listening  family 
circle.  They  were  all  watching  me.  Yes, 
even  my  father  over  his  paper. 

"  I  don't  know,"  I  answered,  bashfully. 
[194] 


A    SOCIAL    EVENT 


"  Of  course  she  did  n't,"  grandmother 
cried,  nodding  her  head  triumphantly. 
"  Of  course  she  did  n't.  She  's  a  Har- 
court  all  over." 

I  looked  down  at  my  little  brass  ring. 
I  felt  that  grandmother  was  wrong. 


[195] 


VII 
AUNTIE   MAY 


VII 

AUNTIE   MAY 


ALWAYS  when  I  think  of  Auntie  May, 
I  remember  sunshine,  and  the  wind  blow- 
ing, and  a  lilac  bush  in  purple  bloom  by 
the  garden  gate.  We  were  standing 
there  together,  very  quiet  and  confiden- 
tial, she,  tall  and  slim,  and  I  a  little  girl 
who  liked  to  cling  to  her  hand.  We  had 
on  our  best  white  dresses,  for  it  was  Sun- 
day, and  her  church  service  was  white 
and  violet,  and  mine  was  white  and  gold. 
We  had  parasols  just  alike,  and  we  stood 
waiting  until  the  first  boom  rang  out 
from  the  big  bell  in  the  church  tower 
far  down  the  street. 

"  Now  we  will  go,"  Auntie  May  said. 

She  opened  the  garden  gate,  and  we 
passed  out,  very  demurely. 
[199] 


THE    CHRONICLES   OF    RHODA 


It  was  seldom  that  I  went  into  the  big 
world;  but  when  I  did  I  enjoyed  it  so! 
The  parasols  cast  a  pleasant  shade,  and 
I  had  a  big  five-cent  piece  in  my  right 
hand  that  meant  church,  and  another 
clutched  tightly  in  my  left  that  meant 
Sunday  school.  There  were  other  family 
parties  to  be  met  on  the  street,  elderly 
ladies  carrying  Bibles,  and  little  girls  and 
boys  walking  with  careful  precision,  and 
down  near  where  the  big  bell  boomed 
there  was  another  church  which  com- 
menced after  ours  did  where  Burton  Ray- 
mond played  the  violin.  I  could  not  re- 
member when  I  had  not  known  Burton 
Raymond  and  his  violin,  for  they  were 
one  person. 

"  When  Burton  Raymond  goes  to 
bed,"  I  had  heard  my  mother  say,  "  he  al- 
ways puts  the  violin  to  bed,  too." 

"  In  a  bed,  mother?  "  I  demanded. 

"  No.  In  a  box  by  his  bed,  wrapped 
in  his  pocket  handkerchief,  poor  fellow." 
[200] 


AUNTIE   MAY 


It  was  after  this  time  that  Auntie  May 
embroidered  an  oddly  shaped  velvet  mat 
quite  secretly.  It  had  forget-me-nots  on 
it,  and  when  it  was  finished  she  tied  it 
up  in  a  beautiful  white  paper,  and  slipped 
it  in  the  mail  box  down  at  the  corner. 
And,  once,  months  afterwards,  when 
Burton  Raymond  played  one  evening  at 
our  house,  he  put  his  violin  to  bed  in  a 
velvet  jacket  just  like  the  one  which 
Auntie  May  had  made. 

We  were  great  friends.  When  we  met 
down  by  the  church  steps  he  would  call 
to  me,  cheerfully. 

"  Good-morning,  Rhoda." 

"  There  he  is,  Auntie  May!  "  I  would 
cry.  "  Don't  you  see  him?  Look,  Auntie 
May!" 

Somehow,  or  other,  although  he  never 
called  to  her,  I  always  wanted  her  to  see 
him,  too. 

He  looked  very  pleasant  in  the  bright 
sunshine.  His  hair  was  nicely  brushed, 
[201] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


and  his  shoes  were  blacked.  There  was 
a  patch  on  his  right  elbow;  but  you 
could  not  see  it  unless  you  looked  closely. 
There  was  something  noble  in  the  way 
in  which  he  carried  his  dark  head.  Some- 
body, perhaps  it  was  Norah,  had  told  me 
that  one  of  his  ancestors  had  been  a  great 
lord,  back  in  the  days  when  the  lords  were 
crusaders,  and  I  liked  to  think  of  Burton 
Raymond  in  chain  armor  killing  people, 
recklessly.  Little  Dick  and  I  used  to  act 
it  out  sometimes  in  the  dark  end  of  the 
hall.  We  killed  a  number  of  things  there, 
Saracens,  and  lions,  and  tigers,  and  the 
rocking-horse,  and  little  Trixie,  and 
would  come  in  quite  breathless  after- 
wards to  the  sitting  room  where  the 
family  sat  in  the  lamplight.  Sometimes 
we  found  them  talking  about  Burton 
Raymond. 

"  Every  time  that  I  walk  down  our 
block  I  seem  to  meet  Burton  Raymond,'* 
my  father  grumbled,  one  evening.    "  It 's 
[202] 


AUNTIE    MAY 


getting  to  be  a  nuisance.  Especially 
since  May  has  been  visiting  here,"  he 
added,  after  a  serious  moment's  pause. 

"  He  passed  the  house  fifteen  times  to- 
day," my  mother  said,  quietly. 

She  said  it  with  a  blush,  and  then,  sud- 
denly, she  made  an  impulsive  dive  at  my 
father's  hand  and  squeezed  it. 

"We  were  young  ourselves  once!" 
she  cried. 

'  The  lad  has  n't  a  cent  to  bless  himself 
with,"  grandmother  demurred. 

"  But  he  has  genius!  "  my  mother  cried 
again.  "  There  is  a  great  future  opening 
before  him.  And  when  we  were  married 
we  had  very  little,  Robert.  There  was 
just  one  small  twenty-five  cent  piece  left 
after  the  wedding  trip.  Do  you  re- 
member, Robert?  And  you  spent  it  in 
flowers  —  for  me  !  They  were  roses.  I 
have  some  of  them  dried  yet." 

My  mother's  voice  had  sunk  lower  and 
lower,  falling  almost  into  a  whisper,  as 
[203] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


it  always  did  when  she  was  greatly 
moved.  Sometimes  I  used  to  fancy  that 
my  mother  was  not  so  clever  as  my  father. 
He  could  add  up  sums  for  you,  and  tell 
you  about  the  presidents,  and  who  were 
the  greatest  generals  in  the  world;  but 
my  mother  knew  quite  different  things, 
the  kind  that  stay  with  you  forever.  To 
her  life  was  a  poem  and  a  dream.  She 
was  her  happiest  when  she  could  help 
somebody,  so  that  for  any  one  to  be  poor, 
and  very  unfortunate,  was  an  open 
sesame  to  her  heart. 

I  heard  a  good  deal  about  Burton 
Raymond  that  night,  and  when  I  went 
to  bed  I  asked  a  sudden  question,  staring 
with  wide  open  eyes  at  my  mother  over 
the  white  coverlet. 

"  Mother,  how  poor  is  Burton  Ray- 
mond? " 

She  was  taking  away  the  light;  but 
she  came  back  again. 

"  He  is  so  poor,"  she  said,  dramati- 
[204] 


AUNTIE    MAY 


cally,  "  that  he  lives  in  a  garret  room  at 
Widow  Denton's.  It  is  quite  a  cold 
room,  without  a  fire,  and  the  bed  is  not 
soft  like  yours,  Rhoda.  He  has  a  few 
books  on  the  end  of  the  shelf  by  his  violin 
box.  He  plays  whenever  he  can  get  a 
chance.  Sometimes,  perhaps,  he  is  hun- 
gry! Yes,  sometimes  he  is  hungry!" 

I  shivered. 

"But  it 's  no  sin  to  be  poor,  is  it, 
mother?  "  I  demanded,  anxiously.  '  We 
can  love  people  who  are  poor? " 

She  put  down  the  light  on  the  bureau 
before  she  answered  me. 

"  Money  never  bought  the  real  things 
of  life,"  she  said,  slowly.  "  To  be  good 
and  true  is  the  greatest  of  all.  It  is  sin- 
cerity that  counts.  And  when  we  see 
some  one  very  noble,  and  very  poor,  we 
must  help  them,  and  love  them  always. 
Yes,  love  them  always!  " 

She  gave  me  a  sudden  kiss,  and  took 
the  lamp  away. 

[205] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


I  lay  staring  into  the  dark.  I  could 
see  that  garret  room,  and  the  violin  on 
the  shelf,  almost  I  could  see  Burton 
Raymond  walking  around,  very  cold  and 
poor,  perhaps;  but  so  lovable,  yes,  so 
lovable,  that  poverty  seemed  the  very 
highest  distinction.  I  made  up  a  long 
story  about  him  all  by  myself.  He  had 
a  great  fortune  left  him,  and  grew  into  a 
lord  again,  and  married  Auntie  May 
long  before  I  went  to  sleep. 

But  there  was  another  side  to  the 
picture. 

"  It 's  the  cheek  that  himself  has  to  be 
coming  after  our  young  lady,"  Norah 
declared.  "  A  lad  out  of  a  butter  and 
eggs  shop!  Is  it  fitting  for  the  likes  of 
him  to  lift  his  eyes  to  her? " 

"  Who,  Norah?  "  I  asked,  breathlessly. 

She    was    washing    clothes    with    her 

sleeves  rolled  to  the  elbow.     First  her 

hands  went  down  into  the  water  with  a 

rush,  and  then  they  came  up  again,  and 

[206] 


AUNTIE    MAY 


she  rubbed  something  white  on  a  board, 
amid  a  snowy  froth  of  suds  that  was  good 
to  look  upon.  Norah  was  an  authority 
on  washing,  and  she  was,  also,  an  author- 
ity on  love.  Sometimes  she  would  toss 
back  the  stray  locks  from  her  face,  and 
sing  as  she  scrubbed  with  a  naive  aban- 
don that  would  bring  grandmother  to 
the  scene  in  a  hurry: 

"I  'm  jist  siventeen, 

And  I  've  niver  had  a  beau." 

Norah  sang  at  the  top  of  her  strong 
voice  accenting  each  line  with  great 
enjoyment. 

"Is  there  any  gint  will  have  me? 
Ah,  don't  say  no !  " 

The  last  phrase  was  coaxing  in  the 
extreme,  and  I  might  have  been  properly 
impressed  if  I  had  not  known  that  Norah 
was  quite  old,  twenty-five  almost,  and 
that  down  in  the  very  bottom  of  her 
trunk  there  was  the  picture  of  a  wild  Irish 
[207] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


lad  whom  she  had  loved  and  left  in  the 
old  country.  Sometimes  I  used  to  dream 
that  he  would  come  to  America,  too,  and 
get  rich  notwithstanding  his  wildness,  and 
find  Norah  out,  and,  just  suppose,  he 
might  make  a  great  lady  out  of  her! 
Life  was  full  of  such  glorious  possibilities 
in  those  days! 

But  to  go  back  to  the  story. 

"  Why  it 's  Burton  Raymond,"  Norah 
explained,  in  disconnected  jerks.  "  And 
his  uncle  keeps  the  shop.  A  small,  dark 
shop  with  eggs  in  the  window.  And 
there 's  mice  under  the  counter,  the 
freshest  mice  that  I  Ve  iver  seen.  It 's 
like  household  pets  that  they  be!  And 
Burton  waits  on  the  customers.  And 
at  night  he  fiddles  to  himself.  But 
there  's  no  money  in  fiddling.  Sure  I 
knew  a  lad  in  Ireland  wance  that  fiddled 
for  tuppence  a  night.  And  he  died  of 
starvation,  and  wint  to  glory,  rest  be  to 
his  sowl." 

[208] 


AUNTIE    MAY 


She  stopped  to  hold  up  a  small  wet 
garment  with  indignant  hands. 

"  How  did  you  iver  git  them  black 
stains? "  she  demanded. 

"  I  don't  know,  Norah,"  I  answered, 
meekly. 

After  that  I  was  divided  in  spirit  about 
Burton  Raymond.  There  was  the  part 
of  me  that  gloried  in  the  crusader,  and 
even  found  something  romantic  in  star- 
vation, and  the  other  part  that  winced  at 
the  butter  and  eggs  shop. 

The  lovers  were  very  pretty  to  watch. 
Burton  Raymond  went  up  and  down  our 
street  a  great  many  times  every  day, 
and  Auntie  May  always  seemed  to  be  out 
in  the  garden  looking  at  the  flowers. 
She  was  growing  tall  herself,  like  one 
of  the  plants.  All  her  soft  hair  was 
gathered  upon  the  top  of  her  head,  and 
she  never  ran  about  as  she  used  to  do. 
She  had  forgotten  how  to  be  a  little 
girl.  She  changed  her  dress  a  great 
14  [  209  ] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


many  times  a  day,  and  she  bought  a 
band  of  velvet  ribbon  to  wear  around 
her  throat,  and  sometimes  she  would 
catch  me  in  a  dark  corner,  and  hug  me, 
rapturously. 

;<  The  saints  preserve  me  from  iver 
being  in  love!  "  Norah  cried,  shaking  her 
head.  "  What  will  the  owld  gintlemin 
say?  And  the  owld  lady?  " 

The  old  gentleman  was  my  granddad 
Lawrence,  who  lived  around  the  corner 
in  a  big  house  that  outshone  ours  as  the 
sun  does  the  moon.  There  were  more 
flowers  there  and  more  trees,  and  a  fat 
horse  in  the  stable  that  drew  a  little  dog- 
cart about  the  streets  of  our  town,  and 
best  of  all  there  was  a  fountain  in  the 
garden,  where  two  little  iron  boys  stood 
under  an  iron  umbrella,  and  watched  the 
birds  that  came  to  take  their  baths  in  the 
pool  at  their  feet.  Just  now,  however,  the 
house  was  all  closed  up,  granddad  and 
grandmother  were  away,  the  fountain  in 
[210] 


AUNTIE    MAY 


the  garden  was  quite  choked  and  dusty, 
and  the  birds  had  found  another  place  to 
bathe. 

Grandmother  Lawrence  was  my 
worldly  grandmother,  and  when  she 
was  at  home  we  tried  to  live  in  as 
good  style  as  possible  that  she  might 
be  pleased  with  us.  Always  it  had  been 
a  sorrow  to  her  that  my  mother  had 
married  a  poor  man,  and  she  was  quite 
resolved  that  no  such  catastrophe  should 
happen  to  Auntie  May. 

"  I  would  rather  see  May  dead,"  I 
have  heard  her  declare  dramatically, 
"  yes,  dead  at  my  feet,  than  married  to  a 
poor  man!  " 

She  never  said  this  when  my  father 
was  around;  but  he  knew  as  well  as  the 
rest  of  us  that  Auntie  May  was  destined 
for  great  things. 

She  was  so  pretty,  Auntie  May  was. 
Sometimes  she  let  me  stay  in  her  room 
when  she  did  her  hair  before  the  glass, 
[211] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


and  I  would  handle  its  soft  lengths 
fondly. 

"  Auntie  May,"  I  asked  once,  peeping 
over  her  shoulder  into  the  mirror,  "  may 
I  be  your  bridesmaid?" 

First  she  flushed  up  and  laughed,  and 
then  she  leaned  back  in  the  chair,  and 
gazed  at  me,  wretchedly. 

"  Rhoda,"  she  said,  "  I  am  the  most 
miserable  girl  in  the  whole  world!  " 

That  was  the  day  that  grandmother 
and  granddad  Lawrence  came  home, 
and  there  was  a  stir  all  through  their 
big  house  and  our  little  one,  and  Auntie 
May  was  back  in  her  own  room,  sur- 
rounded by  all  the  pretty  things  that 
were  particularly  hers.  She  looked 
around  it,  consideringly.  There  were 
roses  on  the  carpet,  and  roses  on  the  big 
arm-chairs,  and  roses  climbed  up  the 
walls  and  fell  in  festoons  about  the  ceil- 
ing. There  was  a  white  fur  rug  in  front 
of  the  fire-place,  and  a  silver  glitter  on 
[212] 


AUNTIE    MAY 


the  bureau.  Auntie  May  looked  at  it 
all  in  quite  a  discontented  fashion. 

"  I  like  things  plainer,"  she  said, 
plaintively. 

Her  lip  trembled. 

"  I  'd  like  a  garret  —  and  bare  floors 
—  and  music!"  she  cried. 

:'What  is  that  about  music?"  grand- 
mother Lawrence  questioned,  coming  in 
the  door. 

She  had  a  string  of  pearls  in  her 
hand,  and  she  fastened  it  around  Auntie 
May's  throat  as  she  spoke.  It  was  a 
present  brought  from  abroad. 

"  There,  child,"  she  said,  not  unkindly, 
"  wear  your  pearls  and  be  happy,  and 
don't  let  us  have  any  more  of  this 
nonsense." 

"  Nonsense!  "  Auntie  May  exclaimed. 

"Yes,  nonsense,"  grandmother  Law- 
rence repeated,  coldly. 

Auntie  May's  eyes  flashed. 

"Do  you  think  you  can  pay  me  to 
[213] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


give  him  up?"  she  asked,  in  growing 
indignation.  "  Do  you  think  that  I  care 
about  pearls?  Do  you  think  that  I  care 
about  anything  —  but  just  him?" 

She  had  risen  to  her  feet,  and  was  con- 
fronting grandmother. 

"  Let  me  be  happy  in  my  own  way," 
she  pleaded,  with  soft  appeal.  "  Mother, 
let  me  be  happy !  " 

I  thought  that  for  just  a  moment 
grandmother  weakened;  but  it  was  only 
for  a  moment. 

"Happy  v/ith  a  beggar!"  she  re- 
torted. "Never!" 

The  pearls  went  down  on  the  floor  in  a 
sudden  shower. 

'  Then  I  '11  never  be  happy  in  all  my 
life !  "  Auntie  May  answered,  in  a  broken 
voice. 

After  that  it  seemed  as  if  there  was  a 

heavy  cloud  over  the  whole  family.    We 

were  none  of  us  as  cheerful  as  we  used  to 

be,  not  one,  and  people  spoke  in  whispers 

[214] 


AUNTIE    MAY 


as  they  do  when  some  one  is  very  sick. 
And  Auntie  May  cried!  She  cried  until 
her  pretty  eyes  were  red,  and  all  her  soft 
hair  was  tousled  and  damp  from  much 
mourning.  And  my  mother  cried  with 
her.  It  was  a  terrible  time. 

We  children  had  talked  the  matter 
over  among  ourselves,  and  we  all  sided 
with  Auntie  May.  Every  night  little 
Dick  prayed  an  extra  clause  to  his  long 
prayer.  It  came  right  after  the  place 
where  he  prayed  for  puppies. 

"  Please,  God,  let  me  have  two  pup- 
pies," he  asked,  in  a  loud,  decided  tone. 
"  One  brown  one,  and  one  white  one 
with  brown  spots  and  a  brown  tail.  And, 
please,  God,  bless  Auntie  May,  and  send 
her  a  new  beau." 

One  night  he  made  another  an- 
nouncement. 

"Please,    God,    you    needn't    bother 
about   Auntie    May's    beau.      When   I 
grow  up  I  '11  marry  her  myself." 
[215] 


THE    CHRONICLES    OF    RHODA 


'You    shan't!"    little    Trixie    cried, 
in  sudden   wrath,   from  the   next   crib. 
'  When  I  grow  up  I  'm  going  to  marry 
her  myself." 

She  bounced  in  her  bed. 

Dick  answered  her  from  his  knees. 
He  looked  like  an  angel  as  he  knelt  there 
in  his  nightgown,  with  his  fair  curls  fall- 
ing about  his  flushed  face. 

"  Girls  can't  marry  girls,"  he  ex- 
plained, scornfully. 

"They  can!"  Trixie  screamed. 

"They  can't!"  Dick  roared. 

He  picked  up  one  of  his  little  shoes  by 
the  side  of  the  bed,  and  threw  it  at  Trixie. 
There  was  an  immediate  wail  from  the 
next  crib.  Dick  was  always  a  good  shot. 

"Oh,  children,  children!"  my  mother 
cried,  in  despair.  "  Dick,  go  to  sleep  this 
moment.  Trixie,  Trixie,  dear,  you  are 
not  really  hurt." 

"  But  her  feelings  are,  mother,"  I 
protested. 

[216] 


AUNTIE    MAY 


I  knew  that  the  littlest  things  hurt 
just  as  much  as  the  big. 

My  mother  settled  down,  disconso- 
lately, in  her  rocking  chair,  with  a  small, 
weeping  burden  in  her  arms,  and  rocked 
and  sang. 

'  This  is  a  dreadful  family,"  she  said, 
in  between  verses.  "  There  is  always  a 
fuss." 

As  for  Dick  he  made  one  more  tri- 
umphant discovery  before  he  finally  sub- 
sided for  the  night. 

"  Girls  are  soft  things,"  he  declared, 
jealously,  from  his  crib.  "They  are! 
They  are!" 

"  Dick!  "  my  father  called  from  down- 
stairs, "  you  stop  that !  " 

Which  settled  the  subject  for  the  time 
being. 

There   was   just  one   person   in   the 

family  who  was  not  upset,  and  that  was 

my   grandmother   Harcourt.    She   read 

her  Bible  as  usual,  and  watched  us  with 

[217] 


THE   CHRONICLES   or   RHODA 


grave  eyes.  She  watched  grandmother 
Lawrence  buying  pretty  dresses  by  the 
dozen  for  Auntie  May,  and  scolding  vi- 
olently, because  they  were  not  worn,  and 
she  watched  granddad  going  about,  with 
a  perplexed  face  and  a  heavy  heart,  and 
even  my  own  father  laboriously  con- 
cocting funny  stories  at  which  nobody 
laughed.  When  grandmother  spoke  her 
remarks  were  oracular. 

"  Those  whom  God  hath  joined  to- 
gether let  no  man  put  asunder,"  she  said, 
with  dignity. 

And  one  day  when  things  were  at  their 
very  worst,  and  Auntie  May  had  come  to 
our  house,  "  to  cry  in  peace,"  as  she  said, 
grandmother  Harcourt  laid  a  small 
white  note  in  her  hand. 

"  Go  out  in  the  garden,  dear,"  she  said, 
impressively.  "  Behind  the  lilac  bush. 
Quick!" 

Away  flew  Auntie  May,  and  I  after 
her. 

[218] 


AUNTIE    MAY 


Now  behind  the  lilac  bush  was  my  own 
particular  domain.  It  was  where  I  made 
my  little  mudpies  in  beautiful  clam  shells, 
and  once  I  had  had  a  caterpillar  colony 
there,  all  pretty  brown  and  yellow  ones, 
and  some  few  with  neat  tufted  backs  and 
red  whiskers.  And  Jeremiah  John,  the 
wandering  turtle,  lived  there.  But  no 
grown-up  person  ever  ventured  behind 
the  lilac  bush,  so  it  was  a  surprise  to  find 
Burton  Raymond,  with  cobwebs  on  his 
coat  and  a  pale  face,  waiting  for  us. 

'  You !  "  Auntie  May  cried. 

She  said  it  almost  in  a  shriek.  She 
put  her  arms  about  him  and  clung  to 
him. 

'  You !  "  she  said  again,  with  infinite 
content. 

They  did  n't  appear  to  mind  me  in  the 
least,  and  they  nearly  killed  Jeremiah 
John,  who  had  gone  to  sleep  in  the  sun. 

Burton  Raymond  had  seemed  fright- 
ened at  first;  but  when  he  saw  how, 
[219] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


Auntie  May  cried  and  clung  to  him,  his 
head  went  up,  and  his  eyes  grew  dark, 
and  he  looked  every  inch  a  crusader. 
They  talked  together  in  whispers.  He 
was  persuading  her  to  do  something. 

"  Oh,  no,  no!  "  she  cried. 

She  looked  down  at  her  clothes. 

;<What!  In  this  dress!"  she  ex- 
claimed, hotly. 

He  whispered  again,  and  little  by  little 
she  stopped  shaking  her  head,  and  grew 
a  trifle  rosy  and  confused,  and,  at  last, 
it  seemed  to  me  that  she  said,  "  yes."  It 
must  have  been  something  very  terrible 
to  which  she  had  agreed,  for  she  faltered 
afterwards,  and  had  to  be  encouraged 
some  more.  Then  she  picked  a  bunch 
of  the  lilacs  and  pinned  it  in  her  belt, 
and  they  went  on  toward  the  gate  to- 
gether. Her  hand  was  on  the  latch 
before  she  remembered  me. 

"  Oh,  there  's  Rhoda!  "  she  said. 

Her  eyes  questioned  mine,  anxiously. 
[220] 


AUNTIE    MAY 


;'  Will  you  come,  too,  Rhoda? "  she 
asked. 

Somehow  I  felt  that  she  would  be  glad 
to  have  one  of  the  family  with  her,  so  I 
went. 

Of  course  I  knew  that  it  was  an  elope- 
ment. Auntie  May  was  running  away, 
just  like  a  princess  in  a  fairy  tale!  I 
knew  whole  pages  and  pages  of  fairy 
tales,  and  I  had  always  liked  the  ones 
best  where  the  princess  ran  away;  but 
I  had  never  expected  to  be  in  a  fairy 
tale  myself.  The  sun  was  so  bright, 
and  the  air  was  golden  with  mystery. 
The  gate  shut  with  a  soft  click.  I  felt 
that  it  would  never  betray  us.  It  was 
very  exciting  afterwards.  We  turned 
around  a  corner,  and  there  was  a  horse 
and  buggy  waiting  for  us  in  quite  a 
magical  fashion,  and  in  a  moment  we 
were  in  and  off. 

"  Oh,  make  him  go  fast,  Burton," 
Auntie  May  prayed. 

[221] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


She  was  frightened  again. 

"Oh,  make  him  go  very  fast!"  she 
cried. 

The  houses  whisked  past  us.  The 
people  in  the  streets  looked  at  us, 
strangely,  and  one  old  man,  a  lifelong 
friend  of  my  grandfather's,  ran  out  to 
the  curb,  and  held  up  his  cane,  impera- 
tively, for  us  to  stop.  On  we  went,  with 
a  clatter  and  a  bounce,  right  through  the 
town,  and  out  into  the  quiet  country 
beyond,  where  there  were  daisies  in  the 
fields,  and  cows  to  regard  us  with  as- 
tonishment, and  dogs  to  bark  as  we 
went  along.  We  were  all  quite  pale 
by  now,  I  fancy,  and  wild-eyed.  At 
least  the  prince  and  the  princess  were, 
and  they  held  hands  as  if  they  had  been 
lost  and  had  found  each  other.  And, 
then,  away  off  in  the  distance  I  saw  the 
steeple  of  a  tiny  church.  It  grew  taller 
and  taller. 

Always  when  I  had  thought  of  being 
[222] 


AUNTIE    MAY 


Auntie  May's  bridesmaid,  I  had  ex- 
pected to  wear  a  white  dress  and  carry 
flowers,  and  walk  right  down  the  aisle 
with  all  the  golden  and  red  and  blue 
ladies  in  the  church  windows  watching 
me ;  but  now  when  the  time  came  I  con- 
cluded that  I  liked  this  new  way  best  of 
all.  The  minister  was  out  in  his  front 
yard  when  we  drove  up,  and  I  thought 
that  he  looked  at  our  bridal  party  rather 
pityingly.  And  I  also  thought  that  he 
considered  us  a  joke.  We  walked  up  to 
him  trembling,  and  stood  about  the  bed 
which  he  was  digging. 

'  We  'd    like    to    be    married,    sir," 
Burton  announced,  awkwardly. 

The  minister  regarded  us  all  through 
big,  benevolent,  silver-rimmed  spectacles. 
He  left  off  his  digging  to  smile  at  us. 
He  had  a  geranium  in  one  hand,  and  a 
shovel  in  the  other. 

"  I  thought  you  were  a  christening 
party,"  he  said. 

[223] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


He  pointed  his  shovel  at  me. 

"Who's  that?"  he  demanded,  beam- 
ing. 

"  I  'm  the  bridesmaid,"  I  told  him. 

Then  I  felt  a  sudden  confidence  in  him. 
I  pulled  at  his  sleeve. 

;<  They  're  running  away,"  I  confided, 
anxiously.  "  Won't  you  marry  them? 
If  you  don't  poor  Auntie  May  will  never 
be  married  at  all !  " 

'  We  've  only  got  a  few  moments' 
start,  sir,"  Burton  explained,  breath- 
lessly. "  There 's  a  carriage  after  us. 
Listen!" 

Far  in  the  direction  of  town  we  could 
hear  the  sound  of  coming  wheels.  While 
we  listened  they  seemed  to  redouble  their 
speed. 

"Oh,  if  you'd  please  hurry,  sir!" 
Auntie  May  begged,  in  a  panic. 
:<  They  '11  take  me  home  again!  I  know 
they  will.  Oh,  what  shall  I  do!  What 
shall  I  do!" 

[224] 


AUNTIE    MAY 


She  looked  about  with  wild  eyes  as 
though  for  somewhere  to  hide. 

The  minister  himself  seemed  to  catch 
fire  a  bit  at  that,  and  he  did  hurry. 
He  had  us  all  in  the  parsonage  parlor 
in  a  moment,  and  went  off  upstairs 
calling  for  "Dora."  He  was  back 
again  immediately  in  his  surplice,  with 
his  wife  following  him,  and  there, 
standing  before  a  sunny  window,  the 
wilted  lilacs  still  pinned  in  her  belt, 
Auntie  May  became  Mrs.  Burton 
Raymond. 

She  looked  so  pretty!  Her  eyes  were 
full  of  tears,  and  her  cheeks  were  pink. 
She  trembled  a  little  still  from  agitation. 
After  it  was  all  over  she  turned  to  Bur- 
ton, and  held  out  her  hands  to  him  in  a 
frightened  way. 

"You'll  be  good  to  me?"  she 
questioned. 

"  Good! "  Burton  cried,  with  his  arms 
about  her. 

is  [  225  ] 


THE   CHEONICLES   OF   RHODA 


He  looked  as  if  he  could  dare  the 
whole  world  in  her  defense. 

"  If  he  is  n't  he  '11  have  to  answer  to 
me,"  the  minister  declared,  stoutly. 

"And  to  me!"  another  voice  cried, 
irately,  and  there  was  granddad  Law- 
rence stalking,  unexpectedly,  into  the 
room. 

He  was  very  much  out  of  breath,  and 
very  angry.  I  don't  helieve  that  I  ever 
saw  granddad  Lawrence  so  angry  be- 
fore. For  one  moment  I  thought  that 
he  was  going  to  shake  Burton ;  but  after 
a  bit  he  calmed  down,  and  we  all  went 
home  together,  the  bridal  couple  in  their 
buggy  in  advance,  and  granddad  and  I 
behind  in  the  dog-cart.  Granddad 
seemed  very  sorrowful,  and,  at  last,  he 
unburdened  his  mind  to  me. 

"  This  is  all  very  well,  Rhoda,"  he  said, 
in  a  rueful  fashion.  "  But  who 's  going  to 
break  the  news  to  your  grandmother! " 

He  took  off  his  hat,  and  rumpled  up; 
[226] 


AUNTIE    MAY 


his  gray  hair  until  it  stood  up  like  quills 
all  over  his  head. 

;<  Who  's  going  to  tell  her?  "  he  asked, 
blankly. 

It  worried  us  both  all  the  way  home; 
but  the  question  was  settled  in  quite  an 
unexpected  manner,  for  it  was  grand- 
mother Harcourt  who  went  to  tell  grand- 
mother Lawrence.  She  put  on  her  best 
black  silk,  and  her  lace  veil,  and  her 
cameo  pin,  and  she  held  up  her  head 
very  high  in  the  air  as  she  went  out  of 
the  front  gate. 

"  I  shall  tell  her  a  few  wholesome 
truths,"  she  said,  determinedly.  "  I  shall 
speak  as  woman  to  woman." 

"  It  is  really  not  so  bad  after  all," 
my  father  told  my  mother.  "  They  talk 
of  a  concert  tour  for  the  boy,  and  he 
comes  of  a  good  old  family,  if  it  has  fallen 
on  evil  times." 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  his  eyes 
searching  the  future. 

[227] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


"  And  if  your  father  runs  for  mayor 
—  I  don't  say  that  he  will,  but  if  he 
should  be  persuaded  to  run  —  why,  that 
story  would  bring  him  in  a  great  many 
votes.  It 's  so  pretty  and  romantic.  All 
the  world  loves  a  lover  you  know." 

My  mother  sighed  blissfully,  and  mo- 
tioned to  him  to  peep  in  the  parlor  door. 

There  in  the  darkest  corner  sat  Auntie 
May  and  Burton  Raymond  on  a  sofa 
together.  They  sat  and  looked  at  each 
other  for  hours  and  hours  and  hours. 


[228] 


VIII 
THE    GREEN   DOOR 


VIII 
THE  GREEN  DOOR 


"  OF  all  the  childer  I  Ve  iver  seen  he  's 
the  worst,"  Norah  cried.  "  He 's  as 
sharp  as  tacks,  and  as  bad  as  a  young 
magpie." 

She  had  come  into  the  sitting  room, 
and  stood  regarding  my  mother  at  her 
sewing. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Norah?"  my 
mother  demanded,  anxiously. 

"  It 's  Dick,  ma'am.  What  else 
should  it  be?  Ain't  I  been  after  mak- 
ing a  grand  gingerbread  for  your 
lunch?  And  ain't  he  under  your  own 
bed  this  blessed  moment? " 

She  paused  for  breath,  almost  crying, 
and  wringing  her  hands. 
[231] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


"He's  eating  the  whole  of  it!"  she 
exclaimed. 

;'  What,  a  whole  gingerbread? "  my 
mother  repeated,  evidently  startled. 

'  Yes,  ma'am.  I  Ve  been  poking 
at  him  with  a  broom;  but  it's  no 
use." 

There  was  a  quick  procession  up  to 
my  mother's  room,  my  mother  leading 
it,  with  her  head  thrown  up  in  wrath, 
then  little  Trixie  and  I  hand-in-hand, 
and  Norah  following  behind  us  to  see 
justice  done.  The  room  was  dark  and 
orderly;  but  there  was  a  curious  shuf- 
fling sound  under  the  bed. 

"Dick!"  my  mother  cried.  "Come 
out  of  there!  Dick!  Do  you  hear  what 
I  say?  Richard!" 

When  my  mother  said  "  Richard " 
things  were  apt  to  be  pretty  serious. 

Little  Dick  crawled  out  from  under 
the  bed  very  reluctantly.  He  was  red 
and  sticky;  but  he  had  a  happy  ex- 
[232] 


THE    GREEN    DOOR 


pression  as  if  he  had  been  having  rather 
a  good  time.  .He  brought  a  tin  plate 
with  him,  and  it  was  quite  empty. 
There  was  not  even  so  much  as  a  crumb 
in  it.  My  mother  looked  at  him  in 
horror,  and  grandmother,  who  had  been 
attracted  by  the  noise,  looked  at  him, 
too,  over  my  mother's  shoulder,  with 
strong  disapprobation. 

"  If  he  were  my  son,"  she  said,  dis- 
tinctly, "  I  'd  give  him  a  good  thrash- 
ing. He  richly  deserves  it." 

It  was  a  dreadful  moment.  Little 
Trixie  and  I  stared  at  the  scene  fasci- 
nated, while  my  mother  wavered  be- 
tween justice  and  mercy.  When  she 
finally  spoke  her  voice  was  very  cold 
and  severe. 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  ever  did  to 
have  such  a  son,"  she  said.  "  After 
this  I  am  not  going  to  be  his  mother 
any  longer.  I  shall  call  him  Master 
Richard,  as  if  he  were  a  stranger,  and 
[233] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


he  shall  call  me  Mrs.  Harcourt.    Noth- 
ing else." 

Trixie  and  I  held  each  other  closer. 
It  was  a  terrible  sentence.  To  be  a 
stranger  in  one's  own  home!  And  not 
to  have  any  mother!  Little  Dick's  red, 
childish  cheeks  paled,  and  he  looked 
frightened.  He  made  a  hurried  move- 
ment forward,  and  caught  hold  of  my 
mother's  dress. 

"Oh,  mother!"  he  cried,  beseech- 
ingly. 

"  Go  away,  Master  Richard,"  she 
commanded.  "  I  am  not  your  mother." 

"  Oh,  please,  Mrs.  Harcourt,"  Dick 
wailed.  "  Oh,  please,  Mrs.  Harcourt, 
let  me  call  you  mother! " 

But  my  mother  was  inexorable.  She 
pushed  away  his  hands,  and  walked  out 
of  the  room,  leaving  him  behind.  They 
all  went  away,  she,  and  grandmother, 
and  Norah,  and  even  little  Trixie.  I 
was  the  only  one  who  remained. 
[234] 


THE    GREEN    DOOR 


I  was  very  sorry  for  Dick,  and  I 
wanted  to  hug  him  badly.  But  I  did 
not  quite  dare.  Dick  never  liked  any- 
body to  hug  him,  and  it  was  very  seldom 
that  he  cried.  He  dug  his  fists  into  his 
eyes  for  a  moment,  and  then  he  took 
them  away,  and  looked  at  me,  gloomily. 

"  All  right,"  he  said.  "  If  she  ain't 
my  mother  I  ain't  her  little  boy!'* 

Then  he  walked  into  the  next  room 
which  was  his  own,  and  went  down  into 
the  bottom  bureau  drawer,  and  got  out 
a  box  with  a  red  lining.  In  it  was  his 
Waterbury  watch.  That  was  the  most 
valuable  thing  that  Dick  possessed.  He 
always  took  it  to  bed  with  him  at  night, 
and  he  wound  it  up  in  the  mornings, 
and  sometimes,  when  he  did  n't  mean 
to  play  very  hard,  sometimes  he  wore 
it.  He  put  it  on  now,  and  he  put  two 
clean  handkerchiefs  in  his  pocket,  and 
his  knife,  and  a  red  ball,  and  the  knob 
off  the  machine  drawer,  and  two  rubber 
[235] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


bands,  and  a  wish-bone,  and  the  little 
box  out  of  a  doll  that  makes  her  cry, 
and  the  stopper  of  a  cologne  bottle. 
And  he  opened  his  missionary  box, 
and  fished  out  ten  pennies,  —  the  ones 
which  he  was  saving  to  educate  a  na- 
tive child  in  India.  When  I  saw  that 
I  knew  that  things  were  very  serious. 
I  went  up  close  to  him  and  touched 
him. 

"Dick,"  I  said.  "Dick!  What  are 
you  going  to  do?  Oh,  Dick!" 

I  said  it  timidly,  for  although  little 
brother  Dick  was  only  six,  and  I  was 
nine,  he  was  nearly  as  big  as  I  was. 
And  he  was  always  masterful.  But  he 
did  n't  repulse  me  this  time,  so  I  kissed 
him  on  his  ear,  and  rubbed  my  head 
against  his  shoulder,  just  to  let  him 
know  that  I  loved  him.  Somehow  I 
thought  that  he  would  like  to  be  loved 
just  then.  And  wonder  of  wonders  he 
rubbed  back! 

[236] 


THE    GREEN    DOOR 


;'  When  I  come  home  —  "  Dick  said. 
;<  When  I  'm  a  rich  man,  sister,  I  '11  buy 
you  some  nice  things.  I  '11  buy  you 
some  candy,  and  a  pretty  dress.  And 
I  '11  buy  you  some  guinea-pigs !  I  guess 
you  'd  like  to  have  some  guinea-pigs, 
wouldn't  you,  sister?" 

I  did  n't  care  a  rap  for  guinea-pigs, 
but  I  nodded  at  him  just  to  comfort 
him.  I  felt  that  I  should  like  an  ele- 
phant if  Dick  bought  it. 

"  And  we  '11  build  a  nice  house  for 
them  in  the  backyard,"  Dick  went  on, 
evidently  cheering  up  at  the  prospect. 
"  Under  the  walnut-tree.  And  there  '11 
be  fathers  and  mothers  and  sisters  and 
brothers,  and  little  weany,  weany  ones, 
all  white  and  pink!" 

"  But  where  are  you  going,  Dick? " 
I  demanded. 

His  face  fell. 

"  I  'm  going  through  the  Green  Door," 
he  said,  doggedly. 

[237] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


"  Oh!  "  I  breathed,  in  alarm. 

Now  there  was  a  long,  high  fence 
behind  our  house  where  the  morning- 
glory  vines  climbed  up  and  still  up,  and 
then  fell  in  beautiful  showers  of  purple 
and  pink  blossoms,  and  just  in  the  very 
center  of  the  fence  where  the  vines  were 
the  thinnest  there  was  a  door,  —  a  bright, 
green  door,  with  a  massive  lock,  and  a 
huge  key,  and  two  great  iron  hinges. 
None  of  us  children  knew  what  lay  on 
the  other  side;  but  there  was  something 
secret-looking  about  that  door,  as  if  it 
might  lead  into  Bluebeard's  house,  or 
out  into  fairy  lanes  and  meadows. 
Once,  a  good  while  ago,  little  Dick  had 
climbed  up  to  the  top  and  looked  over. 
Then  he  came  down  again  in  a  scramble. 

"  What  did  you  see,  brother? "  I 
quavered. 

"The  black  people!"  he  replied,  in 
a  whisper. 

He  caught  hold  of  my  apron,  and 
[238] 


THE    GREEN    DOOR 


we  both  stood  listening.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  I  could  hear  some  one  singing 
in  the  distance,  a  queer,  elfish  sort  of 
a  song,  and  once  a  step  passed  along 
outside  the  gate,  —  a  loitering  step. 

"Run,  sister,  run!"  Dick  cried. 

He  caught  me  by  the  hand  in  sudden 
panic,  and  we  both  fled  back  to  the 
house  together,  and  we  never  went  near 
the  Green  Door  for  whole  days  and 
days. 

I  remembered  all  this  now,  and  I  felt 
sorry  for  Dick.  I  think  that  Dick  felt 
sorry  for  himself,  for  he  looked  around 
the  bedroom  almost  wistfully  when  he 
went  away.  And  he  didn't  slide  down 
the  banisters  as  he  usually  did,  but 
walked  downstairs, .  step  by  step,  very 
slowly,  and  paused  by  the  sitting  room 
door.  My  mother  was  talking  inside  in 
quite  a  happy  fashion.  There  was  the 
buzz  of  the  sewing-machine,  and  a  mur- 
mur of  conversation  between  her  and 
[239] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


grandmother,  and  once  when  she  came 
to  the  end  of  a  seam,  once  the  machine 
stopped,  and  my  mother  laughed.  When 
Dick  heard  that  he  went  on  down  the 
hall  with  his  head  up;  but  he  came  to 
a  halt  in  the  dark  corner  to  hug  the 
hobby-horse,  and  he  cut  off  a  bit  of  its 
white  mane,  and  put  the  piece  carefully 
away  in  his  pocket.  Dick  was  always 
very  fond  of  the  hobby-horse. 

"  Good-bye,  old  fellow,  good-bye," 
he  said.  "  Don't  forget  me,  Alcibiades." 

Alcibiades  pranced  a  little,  but  he  did 
not  say  anything. 

I  was  the  one  who  spoke.  I  had  been 
feeling  pretty  bad  for  sometime;  but 
now  I  could  n't  stand  it  any  longer.  To 
see  dear  little  brother  Dick  go  out  into 
the  world  alone!  Never  to  have  any 
brother  any  more!  I  threw  my  arms 
about  him  from  the  other  side  of  the 
hobby-horse. 

"Dick,"  I  cried,  tearfully.  "Oh, 
[240] 


THE    GREEN    DOOR 


please,  Dick,  don't  go  away!  Take  me 
with  you,  won't  you,  Dick? " 

"  Will  you  go,  too,  sister? "  Dick  de- 
manded, eagerly. 

I  nodded  at  him. 

"  We  won't  never  come  back,"  he 
cautioned. 

I  stole  a  look  down  the  hall,  the  dear, 
familiar  hall. 

"  All  right,  Dick,"  I  said,  with  a  gulp. 

Nobody  noticed  us  as  we  slipped  down 
the  path  to  the  Green  Door,  not  even 
Norah,  who  was  singing  in  the  kitchen. 
The  hinges  squeaked,  and  the  gate  came 
open  with  a  rumble.  It  almost  seemed 
as  if  my  mother  must  know!  We  pulled 
it  to  behind  us  in  a  hurry,  and  stepped 
out  into  the  world.  We  held  each  other 
tight. 

It  was  very   different   on  the  other 

side  of  the  wall  from  our  side.     There 

were   no   flowers   there,    and   no   vines. 

There   was  a   street  with  small,   mean 

16  [  241  ] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


houses,  and  great  piles  of  clam  shells, 
and  a  goat  or  two  running  about  at  a 
distance,  and  some  very  dirty  ducks 
going  home  in  single  file.  Away  down 
the  square  there  was  a  great  red  build- 
ing, with  smoke  pouring  out  of  its  many 
chimneys,  and  here  and  there  walking 
about  the  street,  and  standing  at  the 
doors,  were  the  black  people  —  not  black 
in  any  true  sense  of  the  word,  but 
grimed  with  the  smut  of  those  who 
labor  in  iron  works. 

It  was  a  dreadful  place.  We  stood 
outside  the  gate,  flattened  against  the 
fence,  looking  into  the  street,  and  afraid 
to  venture  any  farther. 

Almost,  however,  in  the  first  moment 
we  found  a  friend.  She  was  quite  a 
small  woman,  with  an  anxious  expres- 
sion, and  she  gazed  at  us  in  a  hungry 
way.  She  had  an  old  plaid  shawl  drawn 
loosely  over  her  head,  and  a  little  bundle 
of  shoe-strings  dangled  from  her  hand. 
[242] 


THE    GREEN    DOOR 


She  had  the  prettiest,  brightest  red 
cheeks  that  I  had  ever  seen,  and  her 
hair  was  a  wonderful  yellow  color,  like 
a  doll's.  But  somehow  there  was  some- 
thing about  her  that  I  did  not  quite 
like. 

She  had  been  walking  along  the 
street,  but  when  she  saw  us  she  stopped 
suddenly. 

"  How  do  you  do,  ma'am? "  she  said. 
"  And  how  do  you  do,  master? " 

We  clung  together  a  little  tighter, 
and  answered  her  politely. 

"  Pretty  well,  I  thank  you,"  we  said 
in  a  chorus,  just  as  our  mother  had 
taught  us  to  do  to  strangers. 

"  Would  n't  you  like  to  take  a  little 
walk  with  me?"  she  asked,  pleasantly. 
"  Just  a  block  or  two?  To  see  my  house? 
And  my  little  girl?  " 

We  were  not  dressed  to  go  visiting. 
I  had  on  a  brown  gingham  apron  to 
play  in,  and  Dick  had  on  one,  too,  over 
[243] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


his  knickerbockers.  I  began  to  tell  her 
about  it,  but  she  cut  me  short. 

"As  if  that  mattered!"  she  cried. 
"My  God!  And  my  baby!  Come, 
dears.  Come!  My  little  girl  is  sick. 
It  would  be  a  Christian  charity  to  come 
to  see  her." 

She  looked  at  us  almost  beseechingly. 

"  Oh,  what  can  I  say  to  get  them  to 
come ! "  she  exclaimed,  in  a  piteous 
fashion. 

Dick  unclasped  my  hand  and  went 
up  to  her  sturdily. 

"  I  'm  not  afraid,"  he  said.  "  I  '11  go 
with  you.  Come,  sister." 

Of  course  if  Dick  went  I  had  to  go, 
too,  for  he  was  the  smaller.  I  started 
with  a  reluctant  step. 

"That's  the  little  lady!"  the  woman 
cried,  exultingly. 

Our  way  lay  down  the  block,  and 
then  straight  away  to  the  right  through 
a  network  of  dirty  lanes  where  the 
[244] 


THE    GREEN    DOOR 


houses  were  crowded  together,  leaning 
up  against  one  another  as  though  for 
support.  In  some  places  the  rain  had 
dripped  from  the  roofs  into  sloppy  pools 
on  the  ground,  and  the  path  was  rough 
with  fallen  bricks  and  mortar.  The 
woman  was  very  careful  of  us.  She 
showed  us  the  cleanest  way,  and  when 
the  goats  came  too  near  she  stood  in  be- 
tween them  and  us,  and  shooed  them 
off.  And,  at  last,  we  came  to  a  house, 
old  and  battered,  with  very  rickety  front 
steps  and  windows  stuffed  with  rags; 
that  was  her  home. 

There  was  a  stout  woman  going  up 
the  steps  with  a  pail  of  soapy  water  in 
her  hand  who  stopped  to  regard  us. 

"Where  did  you  get  them  kids, 
Becky  Dean? "  she  demanded. 

"  That 's  my  business,"  our  new  friend 
cried,  fiercely. 

She  seemed  to  bristle  with  rage. 

"Well,  I  hope  there's  no  harm  in 
[245] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF    RHODA 


it,"  the  other  replied,  curtly,  continuing 
on  her  way. 

We  went  up  and  up  three  flights  of 
long,  shaky  steps  to  a  little  room  under 
the  eaves.  It  was  very  dark  there,  —  so 
dark  that  at  first  I  did  not  notice  a  bed 
in  a  dim  corner,  and  a  child  lying  on 
it  looking  at  us  with  a  pair  of  beauti- 
ful large  eyes.  She  did  not  say  a  word, 
but  just  lay  and  looked  and  looked. 

The  woman  sat  down  on  the  bed,  and 
gathered  the  child  to  her  tenderly. 

"  See  what  I  Ve  brought  you,"  she 
said,  almost  in  a  whisper,  her  cheek 
pressed  close  against  the  cheek  of  the 
child.  "  See  the  nice  little  lady  and 
gentleman  come  to  play  with  you. 
Come  to  play  with  my  own  little  Amy. 
Ain't  you  pleased  with  your  mama, 
Amy?  Ain't  they  nice?" 

The  child  lay  and  looked  at  us,  and, 
at  last,  very  slowly,  she  smiled.  Dick 
and  I  were  both  very  bashful,  but  we 
[246] 


THE    GREEN    DOOR 


smiled  back  at  her  from  where  we  stood 
by  the  side  of  the  bed.  The  mother 
seemed  greatly  relieved.  She  hunted 
about  under  her  faded  shawl,  and 
brought  out  some  sticks  of  candy,  the 
kind  that  taste  of  peppermint,  and  have 
beautiful  red  streaks  that  run  zigzag 
around  them.  She  generously  gave  each 
of  us  one,  and  one  to  the  child.  We 
all  sucked  in  happy  unison.  But  the 
child  soon  tired.  The  stick  of  candy 
rolled  out  of  her  hand,  unregarded,  and 
she  lay  back  upon  her  mother  with  a 
faint,  wailing  cry. 

"Maybe  she  could  play  a  game,  if 
you  know  one,"  the  mother  urged,  anx- 
iously. "  Oh,  for  the  love  of  heaven, 
think  of  a  game! " 

"I  know  'Little  Sallie  Waters/" 
Dick  declared,  speaking  for  the  first 
time. 

So  Dick  and  I  played  "  Little  Sallie 
Waters  "  together.  It  was  hard  work, 
[247] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


there  being  only  two  of  us,  but  we 
went  around  and  around  in  a  solemn 
circle,  and  sang  the  words  earnestly, 
and  when  we  came  to  the  lines, 

"  Rise,  Sallie,  rise, 
Wipe  out  your  eyes, 
Fly  to  the  East, 
Fly  to  the  West, 
Fly  to  the  very  one 
That  you  love  best," 

we  both  kissed  little  Amy  Dean,  and 
she  smiled  at  us  again  from  her  mother's 
arms,  where  she  had  been  watching  us 
with  her  great,  mysterious,  melancholy 
eyes. 

"  Sure  she  's  better,"  the  woman  cried, 
in  a  tone  between  laughter  and  tears. 
"  My  own  darlint !  She  's  better!  She  's 
better  already!  They've  done  her  more 
good  than  the  doctor.  Sure,  she  was 
lonesome  for  the  likes  of  her  own! " 

Her  face  shone.  She  looked  as  if 
she  could  hug  us  both  from  gratitude. 
[248] 


THE    GREEN    DOOR 


"  I  Ve  got  a  doll  at  home  whose  name 
is  Amy,"  I  announced,  bashfully,  try- 
ing to  make  conversation. 

:<  That  you  have,"  the  woman  agreed, 
heartily.  "  And  without  doubts  you  '11 
be  bringing  it  for  my  little  girl  to  see." 

"  I  '11  bring  her  to-morrow,"  I  prom- 
ised. 

"  Do  you  hear  that,  Amy?  "  the  mother 
commented,  happily. 

"  And  I  Ve  got  a  horse  named  Alci- 
biades,"  Dick  added,  in  his  turn.  "  He  's 
got  red  nostrils  and  a  bushy  tail.  He 
prances.  Like  this." 

He  gave  a  spirited  portrayal  of  Alci- 
biades  all  around  the  room,  ending  with 
a  great  whinny  of  delight. 

"  Would  you  let  wee  Amy  take  a  ride 
on  the  pretty  horse?"  the  mother  in- 
quired, persuasively. 

"  Yes,"  Dick  promised,  with  eager 
gallantry.  "  Dozens  and  dozens  of 
rides." 

[249] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


"  See  there  now! "  the  woman  ex- 
claimed. :<  Won't  my  Amy  have  a 
grand  time  playing  with  the  little  lady 
and  gentleman!" 

The  child  seemed  pleased.  She  laid 
one  little  wasted  arm  about  her  mother's 
neck  in  a  loving  way,  and  stretched  out 
the  other  to  us.  I  almost  thought  that 
she  tried  to  speak.  Then  she  settled 
back  again,  and  her  eyes  gazed  off  far 
beyond  us,  through  the  roof  of  the  mean 
house,  higher  and  higher,  perhaps  at 
greater  joys  and  glories  that  were  to 
be  hers  forever. 

The  woman  caught  the  little  form  to 
her  quickly. 

"Sing  something  else!"  she  cried, 
wildly.  "Sing  —  " 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  rocking  her- 
self to  and  fro  on  the  edge  of  the  bed 
with  the  child  in  her  arms. 

"Couldn't  you  sing  a  hymn?"  she 
whispered.     "Couldn't  you,  dears?" 
[250] 


THE    GREEN    DOOR 


Dick  and  I  knew  lots  and  lots  of 
hymns.  We  always  learned  them  on 
Sundays  to  please  our  grandmother. 
We  stood  closer  together,  and  sang 
with  full  hearts,  our  voices  rising  up, 
clearly,  shrilly,  with  childish  emphasis: 

"  There  's  a  Home  for  little  children, 
Above  the  bright  blue  sky, 
Where  Jesus  reigns  in  glory, 
A  Home  of  peace  and  joy; 
No  home  on  earth  is  like  it, 
Nor  can  with  it  compare. 
For  everyone  is  happy, 
Nor  can  be  happier  there." 

There  was  a  sound  of  weeping  in  the 
room,  but  we  sang  on,  earnestly,  line 
after  line,  just  as  we  had  played. 

Suddenly  a  hand  was  laid  on  each 
of  our  heads,  and  we  looked  up  to  see 
an  old  priest  standing  by  us.  He  mo- 
tioned for  us  to  be  silent,  and  went 
on  to  the  corner  where  the  child  lay 
[251] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF  RHODA 


on  the  bed  with  the  woman  on  her  knees 
beside  her,  her  face  buried  in  the  tiny 
dress. 

"  My  daughter? "  he  said,  inquir- 
ingly. 

The  pretty  gay  head  came  up  with  a 
start.  The  red  cheeks  were  disfigured 
with  weeping. 

"She's  gone,  father!"  the  woman 
cried. 

She  dragged  herself  around,  still  on 
her  knees,  and  laid  her  head  against  his 
hand. 

"  I  Ve  tried  so  hard  to  be  good,  father. 
Ever  since  you  talked  to  me  I  Ve  tried 
and  I  Ve  tried.  You  know  I  have.  But 
it 's  no  use.  No  use.  Everything  goes 
wrong  with  me.  And  now  my  Amy 's 
gone! " 

She  burst  into  tears  again,  her  words 
becoming  incoherent  from  grief,  and 
sobbed  wildly,  her  head  falling  back 
against  the  bed. 

[252] 


THE    GREEN    DOOR 


'''  Where  did  these  children  come 
from? "  the  priest  demanded,  sternly. 

She  explained  through  her  tears. 

"  I  brought  them  here  for  Amy  to 
play  with.  I  thought —  You  know 
how  they  all  look  down  on  her  here, 
father.  She  never  had  a  playmate.  I 
thought  if  she  were  happier,  if  there  were 
little  friends  of  her  own  age  about  her, 
that  I  might  coax  her  back  again,  get 
her  to  stay  with  me  for  awhile.  I  saw 
the  two  children  standing  at  their  gate. 
I  only  borrowed  them.  Sure,  I  didn't 
mean  them  any  harm." 

Her  voice  broke  off  again  into  sobs. 

It  was  Dick  who  created  a  diversion 
at  this  moment.  He  had  been  hunting 
through  his  pockets,  and  now  he  brought 
out  all  his  precious  things,  —  the  knob 
off  the  machine  drawer,  the  stopper  of 
the  cologne  bottle,  the  ten  missionary 
cents  that  were  to  educate  the  native 
child  in  India,  even  the  Waterbury 
[  253  ] 


THE   CHRONICLES   or   RHODA 


watch,  —  and  laid  them  in  a  little  pile 
on  the  bed.  He  pulled  the  old  priest's 
hand  to  attract  his  attention. 

"  They  're  for  her,"  he  explained, 
with  a  nod  at  the  bed. 

He  half  touched  the  watch,  and  drew 
his  hand  away  again. 

"  To  keep,"  he  persisted,  bravely. 
"  Tell  her  not  to  cry.  Oh,  tell  her  not 
to  cry!" 

But  the  woman  cried  only  the  harder. 

The  old  priest  took  us  home  very 
carefully,  down  the  rickety  steps,  and 
through  the  dirty  courts  and  lanes, 
straight  to  the  Green  Door.  All  the 
ferocious-looking  black  men  whom  we 
met  stopped  to  speak  to  him,  and  he 
ordered  them  about,  with  an  air  of  au- 
thority, like  so  many  small  children. 
On  the  way  he  asked  us  many  questions, 
and  I  confided  the  whole  story  to  him, 
of  how  little  brother  Dick  had  been 
naughty,  and  had  eaten  the  ginger- 
[254] 


THE    GREEN    DOOR 


bread  and  had  been  disowned,  and  how 
we  had  started  out  into  the  wide  world 
together.  Somehow  I  was  glad  that 
we  had  n't  gone  any  farther.  Somehow 
home  seemed  a  nicer  place  now.  It 
was  so  quiet  and  so  safe,  with  pleasant 
rooms,  and  a  peaceful,  sunny  garden, 
and  white,  comfortable  beds,  where  we 
slept  through  the  long  nights,  and  kind 
faces  to  smile  on  us,  and  love  to  sur- 
round us  always.  I  cried  a  little  as  I 
told  him  about  it. 

'  There  is  only  one  home,  and  one 
father  and  mother,"  the  old  priest  said, 
seriously.  "  Remember  that.  And  be 
good  children.  The  holy  grace  of  God 
be  upon  you,  my  dears." 

His  kind  hands  hovered  over  our  heads 
for  a  moment. 

He  took  us  back  into  the  yard,  and 
locked    the    Green    Door   himself,    and 
went  into  the  house  to  see  my  mother. 
He  stayed  a  long,  long  while. 
[255] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


Afterwards  my  mother  came  out  into 
the  garden,  and  kissed  us  both,  with  all 
her  old  affection.  Her  face  was  very 
gentle,  as  if  she,  too,  had  been  crying. 

:<  Where  is  my  little  son? "  she  asked, 
breathlessly. 

But  she  had  her  arms  around  me  as 
well  as  around  Dick. 


[256] 


IX 
THE   HIDDEN   TALENT 


IX 
THE  HIDDEN  TALENT 


CLOSE  in  a  sheltered  corner  in  our  parlor 
there  stood  a  bookcase.  It  had  two  glass 
doors,  and  a  brass  key,  and  rows  and 
rows  of  books  that  looked  out  invitingly 
on  the  world,  and  seemed  to  say,  "  Come, 
read  me."  On  the  bottom  shelf  of  all 
there  were  children's  books,  — "  The 
Child's  History  of  England,"  "Plu- 
tarch's Lives "  in  brown  and  gold,  a 
green  "  Ivanhoe,"  a  red  "  Alice  in  Won- 
derland," and  a  fat  blue  book,  "  The 
Child's  Own  Book  of  Fairy  Tales,"  with 
rubbed  corners,  and  loose  leaves,  and  a 
crooked  signature  on  the  front  page 
that  read,  painstakingly,  "  Rhoda  Har- 
court."  These  were  my  books,  my  dear, 
[259] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF  RHODA 


dear  books,  and  with  them  comes  a 
memory  of  hours  spent  in  a  window- 
seat,  of  dusky  evenings  when  the  fire- 
light lit  an  absorbing  page,  and  of 
elderly  comment  heard  over  my  head. 

"How  she  reads!"  my  father  said, 
enviously.  "  I  was  just  like  that  when 
I  was  a  boy." 

"  The  child  will  have  no  eyes,"  my 
grandmother  complained. 

"  She  must  know  them  by  heart,"  my 
mother  added. 

I  did  know  them  pretty  thoroughly, 
but  when  I  tired  of  old  friends  I  had 
only  to  climb  up  a  shelf  higher  to  find 
new  ones.  "  Japheth  in  Search  of  a 
Father,"  "  The  Mill  on  the  Floss,"  and 
"  Les  Miserables,"  stood  just  above  my 
head,  and  there  were  stories  of  children 
in  all  of  these,  —  the  most  entrancing, 
stories  that  opened  a  window  into  a 
glorious  golden  world  of  ideality  and 
romance.  It  was  such  a  wide  world! 
[260] 


THE    HIDDEN    TALENT 


People  did  things  there.  They  lived 
and  loved,  and  when  they  died  the 
event  stamped  itself  on  my  mind  with 
a  pathos  that  made  me  cry  from  sheer 
pity. 

"  I  wish  Rhoda  would  n't  read  so 
many  books,"  my  mother  said.  "  She 
excites  herself  over  them.  She  is  so 
different  from  other  children  of  her 
age!" 

She  said  it  half  complainingly  and 
half  exultingly.  Somehow  I  knew  that 
my  mother  liked  me  to  read,  and  that 
she  liked  me  to  be  a  little  different 
from  other  children.  Sometimes  she 
bragged  about  it  in  a  mild  way  to 
chance  callers. 

"Rhoda  reads  the  oddest  things,"  I 
heard  her  tell  two  ladies.  "  When  I  was 
a  little  girl  I  liked  to  read  '  The  Wide, 
Wide  World,'  but  she  likes  novels  and 
histories." 

The  older  visitor  glanced  at  me  up  in 
[261] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


my  corner.  It  was  "  Les  Miserables  " 
that  day,  I  remember,  and  their  talk 
played  on  the  surface  of  my  mind  while 
my  heart  was  busy  with  Cosette. 

"Does  she  go  to  school?"  she  asked. 

"  No,"  my  mother  faltered. 

The  ladies  looked  at  each  other. 

"What!  At  her  age!  Why,  who 
teaches  her? "  they  demanded,  in  a 
shocked  chorus. 

"I  do  myself  —  sometimes,"  my 
mother  answered,  still  falteringly. 

;<  Take  my  advice,"  the  visitor  with  the 
black  eyes  said,  decisively,  "  and  send 
that  child  to  school.  Why  it 's  a  shame ! 
It  is  n't  fair  to  the  child." 

'  When  she  grows  up  she  will  regret 
it,"  the  one  with  the  tight  mouth  added. 

"  She  is  n't  strong,"  my  mother  ex- 
plained. ;<  We  have  kept  her  at  home  on 
that  account;  but  I  suppose,  yes,  I  sup- 
pose, that  she  ought  to  go  to  school." 

She  looked  at  me  a  moment  in  a  wor- 
[262] 


THE    HIDDEN    TALENT 


ried  fashion,  and  then  brightened,  a  trifle 
of  her  old  pride  returning. 

"  She  has  the  greatest  stock  of  general 
information,"  she  confided,  whisperingly. 
"  She  astonishes  me  sometimes.  She 
does,  indeed." 

The  two  ladies  shook  their  heads. 

"  I  don't  approve  of  children  knowing 
too  much,"  the  one  with  the  black  eyes 
cried. 

"And  novels!"  the  other  breathed, 
evidently  appalled. 

After  they  were  gone  my  mother  took 
the  book  out  of  my  hand,  and  read  a  page 
or  two  of  it  in  a  frightened  way.  She 
smoothed  my  hair,  and  looked  at  me 
anxiously. 

"  Why  do  you  like  this  book,  Rhoda?  " 
she  asked. 

"Because  it's  about  a  little  girl, 
mother,"  I  answered. 

I  crept  a  little  closer  to  her. 

"  She  had  n't  any  mother,"  I  ex- 
[263] 


THE   CHRONICLES   or   RHODA 


plained,  eagerly.  "  And  a  man  gave  her 
a  beautiful  doll,  and  one  night,  just 
think,  he  put  a  gold  coin  in  her  shoe! 
She  was  so  surprised!  Oh,  mother,  how 
I  wish  I  could  have  been  there!  I  do! 
I  do!" 

"Is  that  all,  Rhoda?" 

I  nodded. 

"  I  have  always  been  a  good  mother 
to  you,  haven't  I,  Rhoda?" 

I  rubbed  my  head  against  her  arm, 
and  kissed  her  hand. 

"At  least  I've  tried  to  be!"  my 
mother  cried.  "  And  now  I  am  going  to 
do  something  that  perhaps  you  won't 
like;  but  you  may  understand  some  day, 
dear.  I  am  going  to  put  this  book  back 
into  the  bookcase,  and  I  am  going  to 
lock  the  door.  It  is  not  to  be  opened 
until  I  give  you  leave." 

"  It  is  n't  my  fault,  is  it,  mother? "  I 
asked,  perplexed. 

"  No,  it  is  not  your  fault.  It 's  only 
[264] 


THE    HIDDEN    TALENT 


that  I  want  to  keep  my  little  girl  just 
the  same  in  heart  and  mind  as  she  has 
always  been." 

She  put  the  book  back  on  the  shelf, 
and  she  locked  the  door;  but  she  did 
not  take  away  the  brass  key.  She  knew 
and  I  knew  that  I  would  never  touch 
it. 

But,  oh,  how  I  longed  for  my  dear 
books!  I  used  to  creep  to  the  door  and 
look  in  at  them,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that 
they  appeared  lonesome.  I  finished  out 
the  story  of  Cosette  to  suit  myself,  and  I 
made  stories  likewise  for  the  books 
which  I  did  not  know.  There  was  one 
remarkable  thing  about  my  stories,  and 
that  was  that  nobody  ever  died;  but  they 
all  lived  happy  forever  and  ever.  Even 
when  my  mother  read  the  Bible  to  me  on 
Sunday  nights  after  I  was  in  bed  I  used 
to  sit  up  anxiously,  and  pray  her  to  end 
the  stories  in  my  way. 

"Oh,  don't  let  the  lions  eat  poor 
[265] 


THE   CHRONICLES   or   RHODA 


Daniel!"  I  would  cry.  "Oh,  mother, 
mother,  don't  let  them  eat  him  up!" 

'  Why  it  happened  centuries  ago, 
dear,"  my  mother  answered,  half 
laughing. 

"  But  I  can  see  it,"  I  protested.  "  I 
can  see  it  right  now! " 

It  was  so  hard  to  see  things  going 
wrong,  and  not  to  be  able  to  help! 

It  was  about  this  time  that  my  mother 
and  I  did  a  great  many  lessons  together, 
and  she  would  offer  me  odd  bits  of  use- 
ful information  at  unexpected  moments. 

"  Rhoda  is  not  very  well  grounded," 
she  told  my  father,  "  but  I  do  think, 
Robert,  that  she  knows  a  great  deal  for 
a  child  of  ten." 

She  was  darning  stockings  as  she 
spoke,  and  she  turned  over  a  very  ragged 
one  of  Dick's  with  a  little  sigh. 

"  I  would  like  her  to  go  to  school.  Not 
to  the  public  school,  but  to  a  young 
ladies'  seminary  as  I  did.  Don't  you 
[266] 


think,  Robert,  if  I  were  to  do  without 
a  new  winter  coat,  and  we  made  the  old 
carpet  on  the  stairs  last  a  little  longer, 
that  we  might  send  Rhoda  to  Mrs. 
Garfield's?" 

Her  face  was  brightening  as  she 
thought  it  out. 

"  And  there  's  the  money  in  her  bank," 
she  cried,  "  her  gold  pieces  that  dad  has 
given  her  on  her  birthdays  and  on  Christ- 
mas. I  don't  suppose,  Robert,  you  'd 
want  dad  to  pay  for  it  all?  He  would, 
willingly." 

"  No,"  my  father  answered. 

My  mother's  face  fell,  and  then  lit  up 
again. 

"  You  are  a  ridiculously  proud  boy,'* 
she  declared,  fondly.  "Well,  at  any 
rate,  we  can  save  my  coat  and  the 
carpet." 

I  wanted  to  go  to  school  very  badly. 
Every  day  at  half  past  ten  there  was  a 
procession  past  our  house  of  thirty  little 
[267] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


girls  walking  two  and  two.  They  all 
looked  happy  and  important,  and  I 
thought  how  wonderful  it  might  be  if  I 
should  join  their  ranks. 

Norah,  who  was  always  sympathetic, 
read  my  fortune  in  a  teacup  out  in  the 
kitchen  that  night  to  see  what  might  be 
going  to  happen. 

;'  There  's  a  change  coming  to  you," 
she  said,  mysteriously.  "  There  's  a  fair 
woman,  a  widdy  by  the  looks  of  her, 
and  water  to  cross,  and  much  money. 
Sure  you  '11  be  gitting  so  grand  that 
you  '11  be  forgitting  your  poor  old 
Norah." 

I  put  my  arms  around  her  to  reassure 
her. 

"  I  '11  never  forget  you,  Norah,"  I 
promised. 

"  Won't  you  then? "  she  cried,  much 
pleased. 

"No.    And,  Norah,  listen!    All  that 
I  learn  I  shall  teach  you  myself! " 
[268] 


THE    HIDDEN    TALENT 


"  Sure  there  's  a  great  day  coming  for 
both  of  us,"  Nor  ah  agreed. 

I  shall  never  forget  that  day,  the  start 
in  the  early  sunshine,  the  stiff  ruffled 
apron  that  I  wore,  and  my  mother  lead- 
ing me  along  the  street  by  the  hand.  She 
was  just  as  much  excited  as  I  was,  and 
when  we  came  to  the  door  of  a  large 
white  house,  with  a  brass  plate  saying, 
"  Mrs.  Garfield's  Select  School  for  Girls 
and  Young  Ladies,"  she  stopped  a  mo- 
ment before  she  rang  the  bell  to  re- 
arrange my  hair,  and  give  me  a  private 
hug. 

"  Don't  forget  your  seven  times! "  she 
whispered,  warningly. 

I  was  too  far  gone  for  reply,  but  I 
nodded,  blindly,  at  her  through  a  mist  of 
tears,  unexpected  tears,  for  somehow  or 
other  I  suddenly  seemed  to  be  leaving 
my  old  life  behind  me,  and  to  be  going 
into  a  strange  country. 

It  was  very  quiet  in  the  white  house. 
[269] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


There  were  a  great  many  rooms,  and  a 
subdued  hum  of  recitation.  A  clock  in 
the  hall  ticked  loudly.  My  mother  and 
I  sat  on  two  lonely  chairs  in  the  recep- 
tion room  and  waited.  I  remember  that 
there  was  a  large  piece  of  white  coral  on 
the  floor  in  front  of  the  pierglass.  It  had 
exactly  thirty-seven  points.  And  there 
was  a  motto  neatly  framed  on  the  wall. 
"  The  Good  Child  Makes  the  Careful 
Mother."  By  and  by  there  was  a  rustle 
of  silk  in  the  doorway,  and  Mrs.  Gar- 
field  was  shaking  hands  with  us.  She 
was  a  fair,  pleasant-looking  lady.  She 
shook  hands  with  my  mother  first,  and 
then  with  me.  She  gazed  at  me,  very 
closely  and  attentively,  much  as  a  doctor 
might  gaze,  but  she  had  kind  eyes  and 
once  in  awhile  her  dignity  would  break 
into  a  smile. 

"  I  want  to  enter  my  little  girl,"  my 
mother    said,    falteringly.      "  She  —  she 
does  n't  know  a  great  deal." 
[270] 


THE    HIDDEN    TALENT 


:<  Then  there  's  all  the  more  to  learn," 
Mrs.  Garfield  encouraged  us,  brightly. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  she  liked  to 
know  that  I  did  n't  know  anything.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  she  liked  to  think 
that  I  was  to  be  built  up  after  her  own 
plan. 

She  was  busy  in  a  moment  asking  my 
age,  and  getting  my  school  books  to- 
gether. There  was  a  brief  farewell  with 
my  mother  in  the  hall,  during  which  I 
clung  to  her,  wildly,  then  the  door  had 
shut  and  I  was  alone  in  the  world.  It 
was  a  dreadful  feeling  to  be  alone !  And 
it  was  still  more  dreadful  when  I  had 
followed  Mrs.  Garfield  into  a  large  room 
filled  with  pupils  seated  at  their  desks, 
and  had  been  introduced  to  Miss  Lucy, 
the  teacher  in  charge. 

"A  little  new  friend  of  ours,  Miss 
Lucy,"  Mrs.  Garfield  said,  in  the  hush 
that  followed  our  arrival. 

Then  she  turned  and  left  me. 
[271] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


An  elderly  lady  shook  my  hand  in  wel- 
come. She  had  a  soft  hand,  and  a  wor- 
ried look  as  if  something  had  been  going 
wrong,  and  there  was  a  little  curly -haired 
girl  standing  in  a  far  corner,  with  her 
face  hidden  against  the  wall,  who  was 
sobbing  bitterly.  Somebody  had  been 
drawing  a  picture  on  the  blackboard. 
It  showed  a  stout  man  with  bow-legs, 
and  an  ugly  face,  and  underneath  was 
written  "  Miss  Lucy's  Beau." 

'  You  can  come  out  of  the  corner,  Miss 
Armitage,"  Miss  Lucy  said,  in  an  icy 
tone. 

She  pointed  an  accusing  finger  at  the 
blackboard. 

"  As  for  that  dreadful  —  that  dis- 
tinctly unladylike  —  performance  of 
yours  on  the  blackboard  I  shall  allow  it 
to  remain  until  the  noon  recess." 

The  little  girls  all  looked  at  one 
another. 

"Shan't  I  rub  it  right  off,  Miss 
[272] 


THE    HIDDEN    TALENT 


Lucy? "  a  small  person  in  a  long  apron 
demanded,  eagerly. 

"  Oh,  teacher,  teacher,  let  me  rub  it 
off !  "  another  echoed. 

She  had  bright  red  hair  and  a  plaid 
dress. 

"  No,  Cebelia,  no,  Janet,"  Miss  Lucy 
replied,  more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger. 
'  We  will  look  at  this  drawing  together. 
We  will  consider  its  disloyalty,  its  bad 
perspective,  one  foot  is  larger  than  the 
other  notwithstanding  all  I  have  taught 
her!  its  unchristian  spirit!" 

She  paused  for  a  moment,  and  seemed 
to  discover  me. 

"  Miss  Harcourt,  you  may  take  the 
seat  next  to  Miss  Armitage,"  she  added, 
in  haste.  '  Young  ladies,  we  will  go  on 
with  the  geography  lesson." 

I  followed  the  little  curly-headed  girl 

to  a  desk,  and  sat  down,  and  looked  at 

her.     And  she  looked  back  at  me  with 

drowned  eyes.     She  was  rather  pretty. 

is  [  273  ] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


Suddenly,  somehow,  I  felt  sorry  for  her, 
bad  as  she  evidently  was.  I  slipped  my 
hand  into  hers. 

"  Don't  cry!  "  I  whispered,  in  compas- 
sion. "  You  dear !  Don't  cry !  " 

She  pushed  up  the  cover  of  the  desk, 
and  kissed  me  in  its  shadow. 

"  I  like  you,"  she  whispered,  ardently. 

"  And  I  like  you,"  I  whispered  back. 

"  Let 's  be  friends,"  she  suggested. 

We  kissed  again,  solemnly,  in  agree- 
ment. 

Up  in  front  the  geography  class  was 
bounding  Asia  very  eagerly  and  rapidly. 
They  had  all  the  air  of  people  who  had 
recently  escaped  from  some  great  peril. 
We  did  not  pay  them  much  attention  for 
we  were  too  much  occupied  with  each 
other.  Oh,  the  glory  of  having  a  friend, 
the  secrets  that  we  confided  that  morn- 
ing behind  the  desk  cover,  the  horse-hair 
rings  which  we  exchanged  in  token  of 
undying  affection,  the  dear  human  de- 
[  274  ] 


THE    HIDDEN    TALENT 


light  of  finding  some  one  who  is  your 
own  age,  and  who  loves  you! 

School  lost  its  terrors  for  me  in  a  very 
short  while.  With  Grace  Armitage  be- 
side me  I  was  willing  to  dare  all  things, 
and  when  half  past  ten  came  I  went  quite 
happily  hand-in-hand  with  her  in  the 
little  procession  down  the  sunny  street. 
It  was  so  odd  to  look  at  my  home  from 
the  outside,  to  see  Norah  hanging  out 
the  wash,  the  twins  playing  in  the  gar- 
den, and  even  grandmother  sewing  com- 
posedly at  a  window,  just  as  if  it  were 
an  ordinary  day,  and  I  had  not  gone  to 
school  for  the  first  time.  But  my  mother 
remembered,  and  when  we  passed  the 
door  she  came  running  out  and  waved 
to  me. 

After  that  life  resolved  itself  into  a 
series  of  school  days.  Every  morning  I 
went  gayly  off  with  my  books,  feeling 
a  new  sense  of  importance,  and  every 
afternoon  I  came  running  home,  with  a 
[275] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


budget  of  news  to  tell  my  mother. 
There  were  many  things  to  puzzle  me 
in  the  new  world.  For  instance,  I  could 
never  understand,  why,  when  the  spell- 
ing lesson  was  particularly  hard,  Janet 
McLarin  would  always  show  a  great 
anxiety  to  hear  about  Miss  Lucy's 
childhood. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Lucy,"  she  would  cry, 
clasping  her  hands  together,  "  tell  us 
about  when  you  were  a  little  girl !  " 

Then  there  would  come  a  perfect 
chorus  from  the  whole  class. 

"  Oh,  do,  Miss  Lucy !  Do  tell  us  about 
when  you  were  a  little  girl! " 

"  Tell  us  about  the  little  cloak  your 
mother  made  out  of  a  shawl,"  Cebelia 
would  say,  invitingly. 

Even  Grace  would  add  her  quota. 

"  Tell  about  your  mother's  party  dress, 
and  how  she  first  met  your  father." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  the  others  would  clamor. 
"  And  tell  us  about  her  pink  coral  beads, 
[276] 


THE    HIDDEN    TALENT 


and  how  they  were  lost,  and  he  found 
them!" 

Then  Miss  Lucy  would  close  the  green 
spelling  book,  with  a  gratified  smile,  and 
gather  us  about  her  in  a  little  hushed 
circle,  and  tell  us  the  tales  of  a  bygone 
age.  I  liked  Miss  Lucy.  I  liked  to  sit 
up  close  to  her  and  to  Grace,  and  hear 
about  the  party  dress,  and  the  pink  coral 
beads,  and  when  it  all  ended  happily,  as 
stories  should,  I  would  give  a  great  sigh 
of  satisfaction. 

"  Dear  me,"  Miss  Lucy  would  say,  all 
aglow  with  enthusiasm,  "  it 's  time  for 
recess!  Why,  where  has  the  morning 
gone !  Well,  girls,  you  '11  have  to  take 
the  same  lesson  over  again  for  to- 
morrow." 

She  was  very  simple  minded,  Miss 
Lucy  was,  and  she  understood  the 
situation  just  as  little  as  I  did  my- 
self. 

Janet  McLarin  was  Scotch,  and  she 
[277] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


was  canny.  She  could  do  every  sum 
in  the  arithmetic;  but  when  the  day 
came  for  compositions  she  would  put 
her  bright  head  down  in  her  lap  and 
groan. 

"  I  wish  I  was  dead,"  she  would  say, 
despairingly.  "I  do!  I  do!" 

Cebelia  was  more  stoical;  but  she 
would  fold  great  pleats  in  her  apron,  and 
frown  at  the  blackboard.  Miss  Lucy  al- 
ways wrote  the  subjects  for  the  compo- 
sitions on  the  blackboard,  one  under  the 
other,  beautifully  written  out  for  our 
decision. 

The  Story  of  a  Nine-pin. 

Thoughts  on  Spring. 

The  Triumph  of  Columbus. 

My  Mother's  Flower  Garden. 

A  Meadow  Daisy. 

The  Beauty  of  Truth. 

They  were  lovely,  lovely  subjects!  I 
would  sit  and  look  at  them  in  a  blissful 
dream. 

[278] 


THE    HIDDEN    TALENT 


One  day,  the  very  first  composition 
day,  I  remember  Grace  gave  me  a  little 
shake. 

;<  Which  one  are  you  going  to  take? " 
she  demanded,  dolefully. 

"  I  don't  know,"  I  answered,  with  a 
happy  smile. 

"  Girls,"  Grace  cried,  "  I  believe 
Rhoda  could  write  them  all!  She  likes 
to  write!" 

Miss  Lucy  was  out  of  the  room,  and  I 
remember  that  they  all  came  around  me, 
and  looked  at  me,  as  if  I  had  been  a 
strange  animal. 

"  Rhoda,"  Janet  McLarin  cried,  tak- 
ing her  head  out  of  her  lap,  "  if  you  '11 
write  my  composition  for  me  I  '11  give 
you  my  best  blue  hair  ribbon.  My  Sun- 
day one.  Honest." 

I  did  n't  want  the  hair  ribbon ;  but  I 
nodded  at  her. 

"  I  '11  write  it,"  I  said. 

"Will  you  write  me  one,  Rhoda, 
[279] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


dear?  "  Grace  asked,  jealously,  with  her 
face  against  mine.  '  You  are  my  friend, 
not  hers." 

"  I  '11  write  yours,  too,"  I  agreed. 

"  And  one  for  me?  " 

"And  for  me?" 

I  nodded  at  them,  generously. 

"  I  '11  write  one  for  everybody,"  I  de- 
clared, with  a  glow  of  pleasure. 

"  But  don't  tell  anyone,"  Janet 
cautioned. 

I  couldn't  understand  why  she  in- 
sisted on  making  a  secret  of  it.  It  seemed 
so  strange.  But  I  promised  to  tell  no 
one,  not  even  my  own  mother. 

We  always  had  two  days  in  which  to 
write  our  compositions.  I  did  ten  in  that 
time.  I  wrote  them  out  roughly  on 
great  sheets  of  wrapping  paper.  I  wrote 
them  up  in  the  garret  by  the  window 
where  the  wasps  lived,  and  I  had  such  a 
grand  time  that  I  never  noticed  the 
wasps  at  all ;  but  went  on  and  on  finding 
[280] 


THE    HIDDEN    TALENT 


something  new  to  say  every  minute,  and 
loving  to  say  it.  Only  it  was  hard  when 
the  sentences  happened  to  come  out 
beautifully  not  to  be  able  to  show  them 
to  my  mother.  But  I  had  promised. 
However,  the  very  best  composition  of 
all  was  to  be  my  own,  and  that  I  might 
show  to  her.  I  remember  it  was  on  "  The 
Beauty  of  Truth." 

"  It 's  very  nice,"  my  mother  said, 
when  it  was  put  in  her  hand.  "  It 's  — 
it's  almost  like  a  sermon!" 

She  looked  at  the  composition,  with  an 
odd  smile  of  pleasure,  and  then  she  drew 
me  to  her  and  kissed  me  fondly. 

"  I  think  Rhoda  would  make  a  fine 
wife  for  a  minister,"  I  heard  her  tell  my 
father,  excitedly.  "  She  's  got  so  much 
natural  piety! " 

I  was  very  happy  that  morning  as  I 

went  to  school.     I  carried  my  roll  of 

wrapping   paper   under    my  arm,   and 

when  I  reached  Mrs.  Garfield's  I  divided 

[281] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


the  compositions  among  the  girls,  so  that 
they  might  each  copy  her  own.  After- 
wards they  were  all  handed  up  to  Miss 
Lucy  and  school  began. 

Miss  Lucy  took  a  long  time  over  the 
compositions.  She  read  them  and  read 
them.  She  looked  astonished,  and,  also, 
a  trifle  pleased.  At  last  she  gathered 
them  all  up  in  a  bundle,  and  went  out  of 
the  room.  It  was  very  quiet  in  the  room. 
Every  little  girl  sat  at  her  desk  and 
studied  very  busily.  All  except  Janet 
McLarin.  She  opened  the  side  window 
and  climbed  out.  The  last  we  could  see 
of  her  was  her  bright  hair  vanishing 
around  the  corner  with  a  rush.  Then  we 
could  hear  the  sound  of  Miss  Lucy's 
stout  boots  coming  along  the  hall,  and  a 
swish  of  silk  beside  her. 

"She's  bringing  Mrs.  Garfield!" 
Grace  whispered,  horror-stricken. 

Up  to  that  time  I  had  not  been  fright- 
ened, for  there  was  nothing  to  be  fright- 
[282] 


THE    HIDDEN    TALENT 


ened  about;  but  fear  is  contagious,  and 
somehow  I  began  to  be  scared  myself. 

Mrs.  Garfield  stood  up  in  front  of  us 
with  a  roll  of  papers  in  her  hand. 

'  Young  ladies,"  she  began,  "  I  have 
something  very  serious  to  say  to  you, 
something  which  it  gives  me  great  pain 
to  say.  Your  compositions  have  come  in 
this  morning,  and  your  teacher  has  been 
surprised  at  them.  She  has  referred  the 
matter  to  me.  I  in  my  turn  have  been 
surprised." 

She  paused.  The  room  was  very,  very 
still. 

"  I  find  myself  driven  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  not  one  of  these  compositions 
has  been  written  by  a  member  of  this 
class.  They  have  been  written  by  some- 
body else.  They  have  been  written  by 
an  outsider.  I  demand  to  know  who  has 
written  them." 

I  felt  very  funny  inside  my  breast. 
My  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  I  looked  at 
[283] 


THE   CHRONICLES   or   RHODA 


Mrs.  Garfield  standing  up  there,  very 
severe,  and  somewhat  angry,  and  at  Miss 
Lucy  beside  her,  with  a  bewildered  ex- 
pression. I  looked  at  rows  of  pale  little 
girls  at  their  desks.  I  looked  at  Grace. 
Oh,  it  was  cruel,  cruel!  They  had 
never  told  me  that  I  was  doing  wrong. 
1  had  loved  them  so,  and  given  them 
my  best,  and  they  had  all  betrayed  me! 
Even  Grace!  Then  I  thought  of  "  The 
Beauty  of  Truth."  I  rose  up  from  my 
seat. 

"  I  did  it,  Mrs.  Garfield,"  I  confessed, 
brokenly.  "  I  wrote  them  myself." 

Then  I  cried,  my  heart  breaking  inside 
of  me. 

There  was  a  rustle  at  the  next  desk. 

"  It  is  n't  Rhoda's  fault,"  Grace's  voice 
exclaimed.  "  She  wrote  them,  but  we 
asked  her  to.  We  are  all  bad,  just  as 
bad  as  she  is.  And  Janet  McLarin  who 
has  gone  out  of  the  window  is  the  worst 
of  us  all!" 

[284] 


THE    HIDDEN    TALENT 


If  fear  is  contagious,  so  is  confession. 
There  was  a  perfect  storm  of  tearful 
explanations  and  excuses.  They  all  told 
Mrs.  Garfield  how  it  had  been  done,  and 
they  showed  her  the  wrapping  paper. 
One  little  girl  offered  me  a  piece  of  chew- 
ing gum  quite  openly  to  comfort  me,  and 
Miss  Lucy  dried  my  eyes  on  her  own 
pocket-handkerchief. 

All  that  Mrs.  Garfield  said  was, 
"Well!" 

But  she  said  it  with  an  air  of  as- 
tonishment. 

Afterwards  she  called  me  into  her  own 
private  sanctum,  the  place  where  people 
went  to  be  scolded,  and  felt  the  bumps 
on  my  forehead. 

"  Child,"  she  said,  "  you  have  great 
originality.  The  region  of  sublimity  is 
large.  So  is  that  of  humor.  I  predict 
a  future  for  you.  I  do,  indeed.  Do  you 
understand  what  I  mean?  " 

"  No,  ma'am,"  I  answered,  timidly. 
[285] 


THE   CHRONICLES   OF   RHODA 


"  I  mean  that  some  day  you  will  write 
greater  things  than  these  wrapping 
paper  compositions.  I  mean  that  with 
hard  work,  hard  work,  mind  you,  you 
may  write  books.  You  may  become  an 
authoress! " 

She  shook  hands  with  me  quite  seri- 
ously when  I  went  away  as  though  with 
an  equal..  The  next  moment  she  called 
me  back,  and  kissed  me,  holding  me  close 
to  her  silk  breast. 

'  You  have  talent,  dear  child,"  she 
said.  "  I  will  develop  it.  I  will  watch 
over  you.  Some  day  there  will  be 
books!" 

I  went  home  very  bewildered,  but 
very  happy.  I  looked  at  the  worn  places 
on  the  stair  carpet  almost  tenderly.  I 
laid  my  cheek  against  my  mother's  old 
winter  coat  hanging  up  in  the  hall.  Sup- 
pose the  fortune  which  Norah  had  read 
in  the  teacup  should  come  true!  Sup- 
pose that  I  should  be  the  one  to  buy  the 
[286] 


THE    HIDDEN    TALENT 


new  things,  to  make  soft  the  narrow  life, 
to  reimburse  the  dear  ones  who  gave  and 
gave  and  never  thought  of  the  sacrifice. 
Just  suppose !  It  was  as  if  a  great  white 
door  had  opened  before  me. 


[287] 


